


Will wonders never cease? He’s done it this time. REVISED.

by SlySama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst/Comfort, Betrayal, Creature Inheritance, Deception, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling in Lust, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lust, M/M, Masturbation and Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Temptation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlySama/pseuds/SlySama
Summary: It's the summer before Harry's Sixth Year at Hogwarts; lots has happened. He's mad at Dumbledore for all manner of reasons, he's depressed because Sirius is gone, he's angry at himself because he can't stand up to his relatives, he can't see his friends, he can't even speak to his owl because he let her go before he was stuck at the Dursley's all summer; it wasn't safe for her.It wasn't safe for him. He goes through another shitty session with his relatives, he brews a potion, is confused why he's suddenly sprouted feline bits and pieces, he's frustrated and anxious and he doesn't understand what's happening anymore, let alone why Snape is suddenly odd and molesting him in fireplaces, when no one is looking, and in plain sight stealthily; he doesn't even get why it feels so good until...He does.Could this summer get any weirder?





	Will wonders never cease? He’s done it this time. REVISED.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if there are any mistakes in the story. I spent weeks separated between doing other stories and other things, half asleep to re-do this story, not to mention just spent an hour maybe more single pacing everything because it didn't want to work properly >.< I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that privilege and ownership belongs to J.K Rowling herself.  
I merely borrow them to write some fanfictions that hopefully are enjoyed by those that read them :) I make no money out of it.

 

This had, to be, the stupidest thing that he’d ever done.  
Harry spun around once more, faced the mirror and looked at himself again whilst shaking his pitch-dark hair. It was definitely the stupidest thing he’d ever done in his entire young life.

  
He was currently now, what exactly?

  
A fox?

  
A cat?

  
Uh, half a feline?

  
He sighed, grabbing for the new tailed appendage and frowned down at the messy dark chocolatey fur—he hadn’t felt it come, passed out as he had been, but he was sure it would have been painful, still kind of was. It swished in, what Harry assumed, was irritation since you know, he was irritated. An appendage like this would act in accordance with his emotions and everything right?

  
He sat down heavily on the closed toilet seat, thanking himself somewhat for unconsciously holding the new addition away from his bottom as he did so. He had no doubts that if he hadn’t, he would have been in a lot of pain.

  
What was he going to do?

  
He held his head in his hands; his tail now swishing by his legs. He was at his relatives, obviously. Stuck inside the only bathroom of the three-bedroom house which they’d want when they got home, since they were clearly out right now…Somewhere. He thought perhaps they’d gone on a family outing to the beach, since it was the weekend.  
He supposed he could lock the door but that would get him in more trouble than he wanted when they got home so he couldn’t well do that and he couldn’t really step outside, well, he could right now but he didn’t have a mirror in his room and he was still trying to figure out what the holy fuck he’d done to himself now… Without even trying.  
He sighed for the umpteenth time and unconsciously took up his tail once more, starting to pet it—it was very soft. The ears atop his head now, flicked every few seconds in various directions, he assumed they were trying to hear for far off noises because that’s what Harry was getting—at the moment, he could hear Mrs Figg walking down his street for whatever reason she had, muttering to herself. He could hear the neighbours watering their garden and gossiping on their phones and somewhere down the street where it turned into Magnolia Crescent, a dog was barking loudly at, presumably, another stray tomcat—Harry’s skin prickled with gooseflesh and his tail bristled at the barking but he tried to calm himself down, by closing his eyes and trying to block out the sound.

  
Honestly, what was he going to do?

  
He really, really shouldn’t have been so stupid, so moronic enough to try one of his own homemade potions; he was rubbish at potions most days, not nearly as horrible as Neville granted or Seamus who was always blowing something up but he still wasn’t good. But, he could admit that he was getting better, he just shouldn’t have tried to brew this just because the Dursley’s had thankfully gone out for the day and he’d actually needed the help, desperately, from somewhere.

Obviously, this little endeavour hadn’t gone so well…Ergo, whatever this was.  
  
The potion had looked alright in the small cauldron he’d brought back with him from school; he’d followed the instructions to the letter with his head pressed practically to the recipe book. He was sure he’d done everything right so he simply didn’t understand what had gone wrong—the book had described the substance he was brewing as a mix of Aqua and Magenta, that shimmered oddly…It had…It was supposed to distinctly smell like Wild Berries and, disgustingly, Blood…It had done this too…And, it was supposed to have the consistency of Sludge. It had this as well, so where, the hell, did he go wrong? Because the book had very clearly not described the potion did this.  
  
He had no desire for any such potion right now, or ever.  
  
He let go of his once more agitated tail—and clean, since he’d washed it upon first inspecting and taking himself to the bathroom for further investigations. He pulled on the 5-inch twitching ears on the crown of his messy head in further frustrations. As far as he remembered, before he had passed out from the excessive pain, the potions book had stated that this specific potion was to heal internal injuries—hence the only reason for attempting to brew it in the first place…Granted, it had actually done its job and done that but why then would it give him new attributes that humans did not possess?!  
  
It made zero sense; the sudden slamming of car doors, just outside, had him jumping about a foot in the air and apparently hissing through some new sharpened teeth and releasing his ears rather abruptly. He floundered around for a good half a minute, listening to the chorus of voices getting closer to the door and the key turning in the front door before rushing from the bathroom to his small bedroom and firmly locking the door from his side—though that was probably a bad idea, and placing himself in the centre of his dirtied mattress. He covered himself immediately in his equally messy and torn sheet, from head to toe he covered himself with it. A precaution, because he knew someone would come to check on him and they weren’t going to like that he’d locked the door from his side. Not one bit.  
  
He couldn’t image what his Uncle’s reaction would be to tail and ears. He just hoped his Uncle wouldn’t go beyond yelling, not right now, not with these sensitive muscles on the top his head; the clear vial, a small drop of potion still within sat near the far corner of the room, on the floor and tipped over. The little bit that was left was dangerously close to spilling forth onto the worn carpet not that it would matter, the Dursley’s probably wouldn’t even notice with how patchy and blotchy his rooms floor already was but Harry was quick to jump from the bed, shuffle across the room firmly clasping the ragged blanket and shove the vial inside the desk draw—it would be safely concealed there and safely kept preserved if he were to need it at some other point.  
  
He was just shuffling back across the room when the door flew open, banging against the opposite wall. Harry’s toes curled and his teeth clenched as he tried not to hiss in distress at the loud noise and the consequent piece of metal that had flown from the door latch to hit his uncovered calve. He kept the blanket wrapped around him, pulling it over the wound and flattening it over his twitching ears in the hopes that his Uncle wouldn’t notice them or anything amiss as he stormed into the room, angry about the door being locked from the inside and angry that one of the locks was now broken from his force. He would have to replace it so that all the locks would keep his nephew in his room when he wasn’t wanted outside his chores; of course, the man was angry.  
  
Harry kept his eyes open out of sheer will even as he felt blood travel down his calve to his ankle and the large footsteps pounded across the room to stand before him. The booming voice of his angry Uncle bore down at him immediately, large hands grabbed at his shoulders, ‘What are you doing in here, boy?!’ ‘Why was that door locked from in here?!’ ‘You doing something you shouldn’t be in here?!’ his fist raised as he looked around with wild eyes.  
  
Harry tried not to flinch, ‘N-Nothing Sir…’ He swallowed a little and kept his shiver in check when the hand tightened and the fist came a little closer; he wasn’t looking at his Uncle’s puce coloured face. ‘I’m sorry Uncle Vernon, I didn’t mean too, I wasn’t thinking, I’m not, I was just go-going back to my bed…’ He pointed a little and let the hand drop back down to his side when the sheet slipped slightly from his shoulder. He kept an eye on the fist, hovering far too close, silently damning himself for being scared, for not being able to do anything even when he really wished he could—but magic was forbidden when you were underage, and the threat of Harry’s Godfather was no longer valid.

  
The beady eyes narrowed and he let go, making Harry stumble backwards slightly. ‘See that you do then, you can stay out of sight tonight. Dud has friends over.’ He snapped the words as he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Harry heard the remaining locks click into place and sighed, shuffling back over to his wire-framed bed and leaning back against the wall it was positioned against.  
  
He was grateful he’d thought to use the bathroom earlier, when they’d conveniently left the door to his room unlocked after they’d seen to a little obedience, a little stress-relief before heading out for the day.  
  
I wonder if the Order will come to check on me for once? He felt it was a silent plea. He wished he was anywhere but here at Privet Drive, at the Dursley’s. Would the Order come to save him for once, from his own blood related relatives?  
  
He lightly smacked his head back against the peeling plastered wall and closed his aching eyes, trying to wrap his head around his current situation. What had he done to muck up the potion that seemed correct, and how was he going to fix this, whatever this was? The summer vacation still had another month to go and he wasn’t scheduled at all to see the Weasley’s before school restarts, because it was “too dangerous”. Nobody had bothered to check in on him so far…He was well and truly stuck, in this house, in the same house as these unrepentant, horrible, repulsive, unloving, uncaring, irredeemably abusive relatives of his, for the fucking rest of the summer, stuck as, stuck as this? The teen once more unconsciously started to pet his swishing tail, after clenching it painfully with his hand—it curled around his bent-up knees as he petted, his hands running across the incredibly soft chocolatey fur.  
  
//r//  
  
‘What on earth is going on?’ Severus frowned at the excessive noise permeating his eardrums. It was ungodly. The room was chaos.  
  
‘Not now Severus, something seems to be wrong. Harry’s signature has gone missing from his relatives!’ He was roughly pushed aside by someone as he stood there, he thought it was Remus Lupin—the man looked scruffier and increasingly unhealthy. Perhaps it was close to the full moon, or there happened to be a rare once in a million blue moon considering he was sure he’d already supplied the wolf this month.  
  
Severus rolled his obsidian eyes while speaking calmly to the panicking Order members that had been abruptly called to order by Dumbledore—though he didn’t appear to be here. ‘I am sure Potter if perfectly fine. Either the wards are probably just acting up, or worst-case scenario that brat has gone and run away again.’ He went to sit down but the seat was pulled out from beneath him and he landed on the hard tiling of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen—currently still being dubbed the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, regardless of its owner no longer alive for them to have permission to still use it. Then again, he supposed the Mutt had probably simply stated to Dumbledore he could use it for however long he wished.  
  
Severus glared at the one responsible and pushed them away when they went to help him stand, ‘I can do it myself…’ he growled through his clenching teeth, brushing himself roughly off as he stood, a hand on the tables edge.  
  
They stepped back pretty hastily, placing the chair back on the ground as they raised their hands in a warding gesture. ‘Wasn’t intentional Professor, just…needed the chair is all…’ they walked away quickly, the chair still in their possession and Severus’ narrowed eyes memorising their features.  
  
‘No need to get comfortable anyway Severus, we’ve a teenager to find. Harry hasn’t left the Dursley’s though the Dursley’s went out today, so the fact that Harry’s signature has simply vanished is alarming.’ He stared annoyedly at the speaker then was jerked by the arm by the Matriarch of the Weasley Clan to the fireplace with her ‘Come on now’ and several people following in their wake.  
  
He was surprised none of the brat’s friends followed, but he supposed they’d been cowered by the Matriarch—she could be quite compelling. He was a bit confused as to why they were seemingly taking the fireplace as he was sure he’d heard mention that Potter’s relatives hadn’t liked their fireplace being hooked up to the network in the brat’s fourth year, had they changed their minds?  
  
//r//  
  
Harry looked up as he heard the sound of a fireplace flaring to life down the street and then another, and another—it was getting late, and then he heard something peculiar, a bunch of different sounding people tumbling out of one. It was followed by a high-pitched screech of a cat as Harry assumed someone tread on it on their way out of the grate.  
A fireplace, tumbling out people? Who was magical on his street, no, not his street, so, but he only knew Mrs Figg who was probably connected into the wizarding travel and communication network, but surely it wouldn’t be Order members? Because while Harry would have loved for these people to be Order members coming to rescue him, finally, he could hardly believe that now. He did however start to narrow his green feline diamond reformed eyes as he abruptly caught a very distinct sounding voice, a very distinct baritone. Okay, so, why would Snape be here, and if Snape was here did that actually mean that it was the Order? Who else from the Order was with him then, and were they actually here to rescue him or was there simply another reason, maybe to yell at him? To that he could be blamed for anything mind you, he hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t even run away because he knew that would get him in more trouble than it was worth and he hadn’t been allowed outside the house in weeks. Why the hell would they be coming now of all times?  
  
Harry looked down at what he was swathed in, blinking dazedly down for a moment then he jumped scrambling from the bed as he heard them getting closer. He threw the ruined fabric from him and into the cupboard to hide it though it had a defective door it wasn’t like anyone else was going to come into his room, right? It’d become this way after he’d been slammed into it a few times by an angry Dudley and after he’d kicked it himself in anger at not being able to defend himself from his own shitty relatives.  
He rushed to change into something else, something that wasn’t so damning, something that wasn’t so large for him and wasn’t clearly smeared with his own life blood. He rummaged with a purpose inside his trunk that he’d gratefully dragged up the stairs after regaining consciousness enough to brew a potion; he found something as he heard the knocking of the front door. He jumped at this considering he’d never heard them walking up the front path, let alone down the rest of the street to the Dursley’s immaculately perfectly ordinary house—odd since his ears were large, active and hyperaware of sounds.  
  
‘Who are you?’ he heard, ears pricked as he wrestled himself into a shirt and jumper. His Uncle’s voice was gruff and to the point. It wasn’t so late that visitors weren’t welcome but considering the Dursley’s weren’t expecting any and they hated visitors unless invited personally by themselves…  
  
‘I am Professor Severus Snape, I teach Potter, is he here?’  
  
Harry could just image the look that spread across his Uncle’s face at those words.  
  
‘Don’t know anybody by that name, wrong house.’ The door closed with a firm resounding bang in, Harry could only guess, a very annoyed and very frustrated Potions Master’s face—they knew Harry lived here. There was pounding on the front door almost immediately accompanied this time by the very irate, ‘I am perfectly aware that you house Mister Potter here, Mister Dursley, we all are. Now, let us in or we will do it ourselves.’  
  
The banging continued.  
  
Harry sighed heavily, shaking his head as he finally wrestled himself into some year old jeans he’d bought on one of his outing with his friends in Hogsmeade under his cloak. He tore a very freeing hole in the back for his tail to swish through easily—he didn’t feel it would be very nice were it to be squash up in his trousers. He crawled back onto half of his bed then, trying to cover up the rest of the mess there with his rumpled pillow. There wasn’t much else he could do to hide it, the fact that he’d bled on these sheets recently, and not so recently, not unless he could do magic which he couldn’t or he put new sheets on but he couldn’t do that either unless he had new sheets.  
Feline ears pricked as the door finally reopened downstairs, though not before a few choice words from his Uncle under his breath, ‘You’re from that freaky school of his, aren’t you?’ it was a wary growl. His Uncle had balls to talk that way to his Professor.  
  
There were a few mutterings of words from whoever else was there and a 30 second pregnant pause before, ‘Indeed I and she are Mister Dursley. Now, tell us if you would, where Mister Potter is, Dursley. Is he somewhere in the house slacking off, outside playing in backyard perhaps or is he setting the table for dinner, gone out with friends for the weekend?’ Harry even heard his Professor roll his eyes as he spoke.  
  
Harry shook his head again, standing straight up absently noting the way his tail moved around his legs. He didn’t have muggle friends, Dudley and the Dursley’s point blank had seen that to that pretty early on in his childhood. At least, his Professor hadn’t been entirely off with that “setting the table” …Normally, he would be doing that right now but since he’d been told Dud had friends over, not so much. He was surprised about not being harassed by the gang of friends, normally this would be his lot right now too.  
‘He’s upstairs…’ He sighed grumpily, hand still on the doorframe. ‘DUD! Go get your cousin, his teachers are here to see him!’ There were mutterings from somewhere in the house, probably where Dud and his friends were doing something they shouldn’t under his parent’s noses, then came, ‘Yes Dad!’ followed by the lumbering lard.  
  
//r//  
  
The lard was blue eyed, blonde haired and obviously nervous of the people standing just in front of their front door. Severus stared at the whale of a boy as he raced up the stairs the best he could with something silver glinting in his right hand. Severus eyes narrowed, darkening under the dim lights of the porch and front room.  
Well, even he couldn’t deny that something was off here.  
  
‘Come on in then, I suppose, don’t just stand outside. The neighbours will see you.’ He ushered them in with a reddening face and beady eyes staring out into rapidly darkening street, lit now by only a few of the street lamps and front house lights. He slammed the door then behind a ruffled Mrs Weasley who squawked indignantly at almost getting her bottom caught in the doorway.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry jumped upstairs, covering his ears and hissing. He blinked then, waiting behind the door as his cousin stopped outside and fumbled with the key and the locks. ‘There…There are people downstairs for you. Better watch they don’t leave you behind Potter. Dad looked pissed they had the audacity to show up, did you send letters? Mum didn’t look much better.’ His face clearly showed how much the thought of Harry being left behind excited him. Harry just hoped they wouldn’t, not after seeing…well…  
‘Big word Dud, Audacity, and no, does it look like I have Hedwig to you?’ he waved behind him to the empty cage when the door moved open to reveal him completely; he’d let Hedwig out the moment he’d got off the express—he loved his owl too much to let her stay here.  
  
‘Holy shit, what the fuck are those?!’ ah yes, these. Harry’s hands went up halfway as Dudley’s eyes bulged at his words and his chubby pointer finger began to point as he finally took a good look at his “Freak” cousin. His words had been quiet, thank god, since Dudley obviously didn’t swear in the house. He knew his mum would tan his hide for that, regardless of being Duddikins. ‘Dad is going to go ballistic when he sees that.’ He laughed and then actually stepped back, waving for Harry to exit the bedroom. He was clearly begging to see his Dad’s reactions when Harry was left with them. Harry really hoped he wasn’t. ‘Oh and, stay away from my friends. FREAK!’  
  
The blacked haired youth merely rolled his eyes and sighed, cringing when Dudley pulled his tail coming down the stairs in curiosity. He stood quietly in front of the many Order members then, crowded into the living room with his relatives and apparently a few fast-asleep friends of Dudley’s; his tail ached.  
  
‘What the?’ Dudley was walking around him to his friends and looking toward his parents who looked back warily and gestured to him. His mother grabbed him and kept him close. The expected questions or exclamations started then,  
  
‘What on earth?’ That, he was pretty sure was the eldest Weasley son, Bill. He wasn’t sure he’d met the man before, but he was clearly important enough to tag along.  
  
‘What on Godric’s green earth are those, Mister Potter?’ and that was his Head of House, so that was who-else Snape was referring too.  
  
Then obviously Lupin would follow, ‘Cub, what have you done now?’ in an apparently wary and resigned voice and to top it all off, of course Ron’s Mother would come to his house for the first time and see him like this, her motherly face a picture of concern and confusion, coming forward to hug him tightly until his bruised insides became more bruised and he was breathing heavy as she stood back, her eyes brimming with her hands on her hips and her voice a mixture of motherly tolerance and asking clearly why he thought he should look this way. ‘Harry dear, why on earth do you have a tail and ears?’  
  
Harry went to open his mouth and simply closed it again, besides Snape’s baritone chimed in with a degrading note. ‘Oh please, is it any wonder the boy’s signature isn’t showing up, look at this, he’s gone and done something incredibly stupid again. I’d bet his magic is all over the place with this new look of his.’ Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head as he took a step forward, wand outstretched with his free hand.  
  
What you’re wary after those comments? Harry thought. Admittedly there was a low thrum echoing around the room, that quite possibly was coming from his throat.  
Snape’s wand began to glow and Harry took a good step backwards as his tail immediately bristled at the magical onslaught—Snape took two steps back to his one when that low thrum emitted a growling hiss. He watched as the black eyes blinked in astonishment and an eyebrow arched high. Snape’s wand dropped an inch, ‘Did you just hiss at me Potter?’  
  
Harry took his bottom lip between his sharpened teeth and remained silent as Snape bared down at him, wand no longer glowing but there all the same by his side. Harry watched the wand and the man’s position as he flicked secondly to see everyone else’s reaction.  
  
The look on his relatives’ face were priceless. ‘Get that THING out of my house!’  
  
Everyone turned, including Snape to stare at the red face of Vernon Dursley. Aunt Petunia’s hand was still around her husband’s arm as if trying to restrain his forward movement. ‘All of you, get out of my house!!’ he frantically started brandishing his finger like it was a weapon around the room, his face reddening and turning puce in his anger and fear; to be fair, he supposed the man’s face was always this colour, it just darkened when people like Harry show up. Vernon did the less wise decision than he could have and ignored the narrowing of eyes and the clear feel of magic in the room to point at Harry and call him a Freak to their faces. Not that he didn’t say the same word to them in the same sentence; Harry mentally shrugged this insult off though, he’d heard worse, been through worse frankly. He didn’t care and he certainly didn’t care if they were going to do something to his Uncle because he was too stupid to watch his mouth around wizards and witches that actually could use magic.  
  
It was because he wasn’t paying much attention anymore that Harry almost jumped clear in the air and clung onto the ceiling like a frightened feline as he felt something suddenly touch him. His tail was twitching and his ears were pressed flat to his skull and hiss was pronounced in the quiet room. He jumped again when a little pressure was applied, snapping him out his trance completely and twitching his head to the side to find that Snape had come forward enough to actually round him while everything was being shouted and run a hand around Harry’s now completely bristled tail and press long cooling fingers across his flattened pitch-black ears—at this touch, he couldn’t help but mewl.  
  
His eyes cast down as he felt himself flush. He could see the corner of Snape’s muggle-style knee-length jacket at this angle— in black, go figure. The petting actions, because how else would you describe the contact actually paused as the feline-esk teen mewled. Harry flushed further when Snape’s ministrations continued and his thumb seemed to find a sensitive spot on his ears, causing Harry to mewl again, purring basically.  
  
He could pretend that he hadn’t! And hope that Snape hadn’t heard it this time, or hadn’t heard it probably the first time either. He quickly stepped forward, away from the older man and spun around to shove him for good measure, his cheeks tinted red and travelling down under his collar—he could feel the heat radiating from his face but he didn’t dare lift his hands to touch the heated skin. He could only hope Snape didn’t notice it.  
  
//r//  
  
Incredible, Severus thought.  
  
The teen had his head still bent down, trying to hide the obvious flush that prettily went beneath his hideously Gryffindor jumper. He tapped the boy on the shoulder a moment later, watching as the breaths heaved and the hands clenched in his trousers as the tail swished in agitation and his ears stayed flat. The hiss renewed itself as the green diamond stare of a feline came up to stare into his amused and intrigued black eyes. Severus couldn’t help both eyebrows arching and his lip quirking to form a fascinated smirk.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry wasn’t sure he liked that inquisitive stare or that amused mouth, not one bit.  
  
‘We have no other reason to remain here longer.’ Ah, they had spent enough time in the unwelcoming Dursley Trio’s company and had decided to leave. They were all glaring at the trio as they ushered Harry into the front room and toward the stairs. ‘Collect your belongs, do not leave anything behind, we’re heading back to Headquarters with you.’ Harry blinked at the Potions Professor.  
  
Oh, Dumbledore needs to know that he was this way. He supposed.  
  
Luckily, he had grabbed his trunk so he didn’t need to go through the embarrassment or inquisitive looks and questions later of why he was trying to get his trunk out of a small cupboard under the stairs and why there happened to be a small moth-eaten mattress, a few broken toys that had belonged to Dudley in the first place and a few baby drawings that he’d been able to make on nicked paper and drawn with a similarly stolen pencil that he hadn’t grabbed because he didn’t like them—they weren’t pretty, but not in the sense that they were scribblings of a toddler or child, no it was because he’d always been good at drawing and his pictures were nightmarish because he drew the nightmares he had; they were pinned to the beams.  
  
He’d long since stopped doing that and mostly drew pictures of Hedwig.  
  
He hurried up the stairs, nodding at his former DADA instructor Remus Lupin as he told him to hurry—though Harry wasn’t sure why they needed too exactly. He jumped up the stairs, two at a time, sometimes three, his body nimbler than he remembered it being. This was probably due to his new cat-like reflexes. He rubbed a hand absentmindedly across his ears and shivered as he entered his room; since when were his ears so sensitive anyways? Was it because they were different? He knew they were only pair he currently possessed right now and didn’t feel strange that they weren’t on the side of his head anymore. His eyes avoided the bed and the walls and the general stare of the baron room as he walked around it gathering his few belongings.  
  
He wrestled his things down the staircase and winced a few times as he ended up smashing his trunk into the wall and his soft tail between the two. By the time he got down the stairs, stumbling into his Potions Master’s chest as he fell the last two steps, he was close to tears and stayed there a moment.  
Fuck, did his tail hurt.  
  
‘Alright, Potter?’ he straightened Harry back up and grabbed the trunk still in Harry’s grasp as he raised both eyebrows at Harry’s teary-eyed, biting lip and looking down posture. It really, really did hurt. He was sure he was trembling.  
  
//r//  
  
Severus frowned, only to frown harder when the boy didn’t move for a good five minutes after his question. He stared around the boy, trying to determine what was wrong with the brat now and holding them up here when he realised that the boy’s new appendage was bristled and his entire small frame was trembling. Whatever it was, whatever had happened, they needed to hurry up and fix it before those muggles woke up from his hastily cast stupefy.  
  
‘Harry, dear?’  
  
‘Cub?’  
  
The teen shook his head, ‘I…I’m fine Mrs Weasley, Remus, just, just another minute…’ He heaved the breath, exhaled it slowly through gritted teeth, shoulders rising and falling in a shuddering rhythm as he waited for pain to clearly subside.  
  
//r//  
  
He hoped it would, in fact, subside. Could you break a tail, it had bones, right? Who would have thought having a tail would require you to be extra careful when bringing your trunk down from staircases? His trunk hit the floor with a heavy thud in front of him but Harry didn’t flinch, he shrugged it off as an afterthought because why would Snape continue to hold Harry’s trunk when it was heavy? Plus, he doubted the man was going to walk it all the way back to Figg’s house—he wouldn’t even shrink it for Harry to carry, he’d bet.  
  
He was sure Snape wasn’t that nice, in fact he was sure Snape wasn’t nice.  
  
A hand however jerked him from his thoughts as it encircled his bruised tail, it was not something Harry expected the teacher to do. He whimpered, head whipping around as far as it would turn without snapping it and eyed his Potions Master with wild, owl-like bewildered eyes that were teary.  
  
What the hell was he DOING?!  
  
There was a flash, followed by, ‘Feel any better?’  
  
Harry blinked repeatedly, swallowed and blinked again as he breathed out shakily, pulling tail slowly out of the Professor’s slowly, and probably unconsciously, stroking fingers. He inspected it critically as he turned his head back, shifting it before him and stroking over it himself; it twitched but it wasn’t painful anymore. It actually felt a lot better, in fact, it felt better than it had before.  
  
‘Perhaps you should be a little warier of where your new appendage is when you are carrying something down a narrow staircase? From what I have seen, you aren’t exactly in control of your tails movements though you do seem rather familiar with the appendage. It’s a simple healing spell, it was merely a bit bruised from being crushed against the staircase wall…’ he waved it off, breathing, staring down at Harry like he was a lost cause. ‘How long have you had these appendages for, Potter?’ He’d rounded him as he spoke and re-lifted the trunk into his hands, casting a quick shrinking spell and pocketing it, despite Harry’s thoughts that he wouldn’t. Snape’s eyes were an intense black.  
  
‘Umm…’ He felt distracted by what Snape had said and by the feel of the finger’s that lingered on his soft fur, why did it feel so nice, why was he missing the touch? The fingers had been gentle and smooth and he wasn’t even sure they were potion-stained from where he was standing—looking under his fringe and his glasses that slipped to the point of his nose before being pushed back up. ‘…Not long…’ he finally whispered.  
  
‘Not long, and how long is not long, Mister Potter? Two weeks, a week, days?’ They started for the front door, Snape’s hand now in the middle of his back, Remus holding the door open for them. None of them were paying attention to the Dursley’s now standing in the arch of the living room and silently pleading with them to leave their perfectly ordinary house, with their freak of a nephew in toe. Sounds from within the living room were drifting and he was pushed forward, propelled by a large hand.  
  
‘Uh…Mid-morning?’ he questioned, he had no idea. His hand was still loosely holding his twitching tail and his eyes focused on the man’s straight black hair as it lowered over his head and stared disbelievingly from the side.  
  
‘What?’  
Snape looked good. The disbelief vanished in an instant but Harry was sure the eyebrow had risen as well, and still was as the head disappeared too and the man straightened back up, towering over him. There was a subtle undertone to his voice, ‘How on earth, if you have only gained these this morning do you appear to be so familiar with them? Almost like you’ve lived with them your whole life, Potter.’ He wasn’t sure if that was rhetorical so he stayed silent anyway, pretending he didn’t hear the added ‘How odd’’ that hadn’t been silent enough not to be heard as they silently made their way down the street in a pack.  
  
Harry fell behind everyone as they walked toward Magnolia Crescent and Mrs Figg’s house, though he was sure he was no less protected in this pack of humans.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry fell out onto the sitting room floor on hands and knees and threw up what little he’d ate all summer, so far. Apparently, when you’re in this form, it isn’t a good thing to travel by Floo, in fact, don’t ever do that. He groaned lowly, spitting onto the mess, uncaring and wiping his saliva and puke covered mouth, or at least trying too until someone shoved a handkerchief in front of his face and so he gladly used that instead. He didn’t realise who it had been, until he tried to hand it back, still on knees.  
  
‘I don’t think so, Mister Potter.’ He pushed Harry’s hand with the handkerchief away from his person with a disgusted face and the placed the heavy trunk, now unshrunk, to the floor nearest the sofa closet to the door—magicking the sick away with a wave of his wand. ‘I am sure your friends are worried about you, they’re probably in the kitchen now.’ He inclined his head behind him and Harry looked toward the door, well, they weren’t in the kitchen, anymore anyway, if they had been there before…  
  
Everyone did seem to congregate there.  
  
‘Harry!’ She ran in and pushed Snape unconsciously to the side to hug Harry, even though he was still kneeling on the floor. Harry’s eyes bugged out as he saw this, Hermione, pushing a teacher out of the way…Unthinkable.  
  
‘We’ve been so worried about you Harry!’ She smacked him for good measure and Ron chimed in with the same words, ‘Glad to see your alive mate but umm…What are those?’ Ron pointed as he tried not to snicker at his friend’s expanse—he wasn’t the only one.  
  
‘Those, Mister Weasley are the fruits of your best friends stupidity, undoubtedly.’ He pushed himself back into the sofa and withdrew a book from behind the cushions. Harry frowned at him as he finally stood, pushing the handkerchief into a pocket; the man seemed to be rather comfortable in Harry’s Godfather’s house, why was that?  
  
‘Well, either way Harry I think you look rather handsome.’ Hermione winningly smiled.  
  
‘Cute more like.’ Ginny grinned, coming forward to stare him up and down.  
  
Harry jerked away from staring at Snape to stare at first a smirking Ginny and then Hermione as a hand came up to run fingers through his messy pitch coloured hair and then over his similarly coloured ears. He couldn’t bring himself to push her intrusive hand away and his eyes closed without permission as he mewled in pleasure, once more; just like with Snape earlier. His hand had stuck in mid-air, having been about to push her hand away. It fell now to his side as she practically giggled as they twitched and she stepped back, this was done simultaneously.  
  
Hermione’s cheeks betrayed her when Harry opened his eyes at her words, his mouth still moaning in pleasure, bereft and extreme embarrassment. ‘They’re so soft Harry.’ Even bookworms that followed idiots into extreme adventures, often got exasperated at them but was still their best friend wasn’t immune to a little cat-like charm on a pretty boy.  
Harry’s green eyes were almost entirely black now, his eyes dilated so much with pleasure and a little irritation that the soft touching had halted, stared at Hermione’s pink cheeks and her unrepentantly smiling features—this was going to happen again.  
  
The sound of three different voices clearing their throats made Harry look around, hands twitching by his sides, clenching in his jeans. The room had filled with Order members since he’d last looked. Their eyes were locked to Harry’s and apparently to Harry’s admittedly very aroused lower-half. He blushed promptly as one of the twins, he had no idea which one, whom had just entered the room carrying bread rolls smothered in butter pointed it out rather crudely with a size reference that normally Harry might have found very flattering but was otherwise not right now. He fumbled to cover it entirely with both hands and twitching tail.  
  
‘Oh’ Hermione’s eyes went down and then quickly back up to his face, her lips being bitten and her face reddening in reaction to his reaction, ‘I am so sorry Harry, I didn’t realise, if I’d known they were so sensitive…I…’ Harry wasn’t sure if she was going to say she wouldn’t have done it and clearly lie to Harry because she was still clearly trying not to laugh at it and Ron was snickering in the background with his brothers. So, it wasn’t just Snape that got him aroused in this state, but he wasn’t sure he was comforted to know that one his best friends could get him that way. It seemed a bit mortifying actually--to think about.  
  
He blinked up at Ron, he was still snickering. Hermione was apologising again and Harry groaned in completely embarrassment as a voice echoed in the sitting room. ‘Perhaps you ought to take care of that, in your room, Mister Potter?’ Harry’s eyes flew back open, unaware he’d closed them on a groan and fell on Snape still lounging on the couch, his eyes firmly affixed on his book—though that wasn’t to say he didn’t seem like he wasn’t smirking behind it, clearly amused.  
  
‘Um…’ Harry floundered, wasn’t that more mortifying?! But, he couldn’t think of anything to make it go away and it seemed pretty insistent in his trousers and was actually getting harder now that he noticed because his tail wasn’t helping and was brushing back and forwards over it as if trying to help along the process without his permission.  
Snape was right, he had no control of his tails movements. Shit. Quickly making his way out of the room, knocking passed the twins in the doorway, he bounded up the stairs to the room he usually shared with Ron, when they were all here and slammed the door shut, loud enough to echo to everyone downstairs.  
  
This was so mortifying! ‘Oh my god!’ he whispered, horrified as he threw himself on his bed, kicked off his shoes, socks, trousers, underpants and jumper. He winced as he pulled his tail out from beneath him, feeling his face heat up further and shuffled his way up the mattress, carefully, tail in hand—it was swaying in his grasp. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this…with the door unlocked because it didn’t have one and everyone downstairs fully aware of what he was about to do. His ears twitched, picking up snippets of conversation downstairs. He couldn’t hear them well but he could hear them enough that he flushed and became confused because they were blurring into each other the longer his ears listened.  
  
He got the gist though. And that, he really didn’t want to hear; his face burnt even further if that were possible from embarrassment and he quickly tried to block out any further listening. His erection didn’t falter, even the tiniest bit at the knowledge of everyone downstairs, in fact, it grew.  
  
He really needed to deal with his, quickly.  
  
Harry slowly stroked his tail, very conscious about wanking in a house full of knowledgeable adults, strangers and friends. He was just beginning to stroke his hard cock when his ears pricked up and caught the unexpectedly clear voice of his Potions Professor. ‘They are, indeed, very soft…’  
  
Harry swallowed, moaning an ‘Oh my god’ into the quiet room. He wasn’t sure if he was glad his ears had selectively picked that up or not; his cock, however, seemed to like Snape’s thoughts on his new appendages, it also seemed to love the way the man had whispered the words almost seductively under his breath, as if he’d wanted Harry to hear them.  
  
Footsteps wondered passed the door to the bedroom several times and all Harry could do was work his hand around his cock, breathes hitching and body twitching. It was incredibly thrilling having the possibility that some would walk in, not everyone of the Order having been in the sitting room, so not everyone having been told about what young mister Potter was doing upstairs, and hell, the ones that knew could very well still come upstairs to check if he was done yet…or in curiousness. Who knew?  
  
//r//  
  
‘Uhhh…’ A breath.  
  
‘Uhhh…hah…’ A hitched breath.  
  
Harry’s fist was a blur now, on both is tail and his hard shaft. The softness and yet hardness of both and the incredibly sensitivity of his tail…They were just…His breath hitched again and he groaned, holding his breath as someone walked passed the door again—they stopped secondly as if trying to listen in the hallway and then kept walking, this time, instead of feigning going up Harry was vaguely aware they turned back around and went down; were they waiting on him for something? Was he talking a long time? Was that a good or a bad thing? Could he be judged on something like this?  
  
‘Ah!’ He was so close, just a little…bit…’AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Ah! Hah…hah…heh…’ Swallow. ‘NN!’ Harry’s back arched off the mattress, his ears flattening and his tail jerking in his grasp as he fiercely came onto his black shirt.  
  
He swore quietly and lay limply for an entire five minutes before he was able to fully move again, though his breaths were still hitching and he could feel wheezing. DAMN. That had been some orgasm, he hadn’t orgasmed like that before, and in fact, he didn’t really like to touch him unless he couldn’t help it. He certainly didn’t do it at the Dursley’s. He stroked his tail again softly, watching as it spasmed under his palm. He slid himself to the edge of the bed, pulling his mussed sheets with his bare bottom. He would need a new shirt now, except, his runk was downstairs…with Snape…and the rest of the Order…He groaned.  
  
He had to psych himself up for a few then he took a breath, a large one, lifted his shirt up and over, slid into his soft cotton emerald briefs and his denim jeans pushing his tail through the hole behind those carefully then headed out of the door, down the stairs, looking decidedly pleased with himself if a bit red all the same.

He completely forgot that he had a perfectly alright jumper he could use instead.  
  
KNOCK  
  
KNOCK  
  
He wrapped his knuckles on the wood of the archway, ‘Um…Sir?’ he questioned.  
  
The black head turned slightly to see him, ‘Ah, finished, are we?’ he blinked his obsidian eyes and sat up, turning fully to face Harry as, Harry supposed, he realised that Harry was shirtless. ‘Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?’ Harry mentally nodded, avoiding eye contact as he scratched the side of his skull. He muttered, but below the teacher’s hearing. ‘What was that?’ he asked, standing and throwing his book to the sofa with a frown to his features.  
  
‘I need a new shirt, sir, you have my trunk.’ He pointed behind his teacher, thankful no one else seemed to still be in the sitting room, to the dark brown trunk with his initials engraved on it. His cheeks were warming as Snape blinked, turned to blink at it and then turned back, blinking at Harry’s toned shirtless body again.  
  
‘Very well…’ he stepped aside and waved for Harry to take it, so he did; with his haste, his tail swishing behind him. He jumped and mewled lowly however as his hand encountered the handle of his trunk. What, was it, about these new appendages that made people, who shouldn’t be doing it, want to grope him? He stood perfectly still, swallowing thickly as he felt the large fingers begin to stroke his tail, short strokes true but strokes nonetheless, and why was Snape the one that had done it more than once now, more than twice?! Because he was pretty sure that he’d been groped on their way back to headquarters, inside the Floo as he was in the middle of Remus and Snape. Slowly turning his head around and grabbing the end that connected to his tailbone, he tried to pull it from Snape’s firming grasp. It didn’t, however, seem to want to let go.   
  
The hand tightened and moved the slightest bit upwards and around to press a thumb against the spot that Harry had found mere moments ago upstairs—Harry moaned almost wantonly and became hard instantly. Shit! He thought, swaying slightly in his awkward position, if someone were to come in here right now, into the sitting room, for who knows whatever, or came through the fireplace, this scene would very, very hard for either of them to explain away…For one, Harry was bent over, hand still gripping his trunks hand tightly, arse firmly in the air and his tail grasped tightly in the hand of his TEACHER, moans escaping his open mouth and he was pretty sure with his eyes screwed tightly shut, a dint in his bottom lip from biting it so harshly at Snape’s thumb relentlessly pressing into that “special odd spot”, that Harry wasn’t the only one to moan lowly.  
Snape wasn’t letting up and didn’t appear to want to let up anytime soon. Was the man even aware of what he was doing to one of his students and one he appeared to despise? Did Harry’s appendages, or in Snape’s case alone, Harry’s tail, have some sort of bazaar power over the older man? Did Harry let off some sort of…pheromone that only affected the Professor this way? Harry’s eyes flung open and widened abruptly to impossible widths as he unmistakably heard, very clearly, very distinctly, the sound of Snape moaning behind him.  
  
Moaning, Snape was very distinctly moaning!  
  
Oh my god, oh my Godric and Sweet Merlin! Harry clenched his hand around the handle tighter and prepared himself for the pain that he was about to feel as he wrenched his tail free from Snape’s tight grasp; the sound the action emitted from the potions extraordinaire was on of bereft, Harry a whimper and a ‘Holy shit!’ whispered as he clicked the lock, teeth dug deep into his bottom lip, brows drawn inwards, stood, spun the trunk with his foot, bent back over, took out a random shirt and pulled it over his head.  
Harry then stood silently, as did Snape, still blinking as he waited for the man to regain some semblance of himself, ‘Potter?’ he was frowning.  
  
Harry nodded slowly, hands bunched in his shirt, tail wrapped protectively around his leg.  
  
‘What…?’ He sounded like he wanted to say more but Harry quickly retreated from the room, shaking his head. He thought he could stick around and hear if the man had some sort of explanation for that but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, not right now… He retreated to the kitchen, hearing sounds coming from there; unfortunately, Snape followed suit, looking out of sorts and rubbing at his hands. ‘Interesting choice of shirt…’ He muttered lowly, Harry paused a moment, eyes flicking down.  
  
‘Harry dear, Professor, take a seat, I made some dinner. You must be famished Harry.’  
  
‘Oh!’ Harry nodded empathically and thrust himself down into a chair, immediately he pulled plate already full of food toward him and dug in. Mrs Weasley smiled, her blue eyes turning sad, knowing that Harry didn’t get all that much food over the summer and that her gratefully given food baskets probably kept him alive over the summer time, not his relatives like they should. She watched him pile more onto the plate, only halfway through, some beans, some bacon, some buttered rolls and shoved those into his mouth too—She was probably thinking he was much too skinny and short for his age. Harry had no doubts that his size was the doing of his relatives, you know, since living in a cupboard for practically 11 years would stunt growth. ‘Thanks Mrs Weasley!’ he hurried between mouthfuls, ever the manners. He certainly didn’t speak like his redheaded friend Ron when he had a mouthful of food.  
  
‘Molly, dear, my name is Molly.’ She smiled and Harry nodded, like he did every time she said so, around a mouth full of food. He wasn’t sure he should be piling so much food into his stomach, not so soon at any rate but he was so hungry and there were mountains of the stuff on the kitchen table…He just couldn’t resist the enticing smells even if he was going to probably just throw it all back up later…At least, he could say that he’d finally eaten some decent food.  
  
‘You’ll make yourself sick Potter, calm it down.’ Snape’s different frown didn’t deter Harry from shovelling the food into his waiting mouth, if anything he shoved more in to spite the perverted old man.  
  
‘Harry?’  
  
Harry nodded at her, eyebrows raised as he had a mouth full of food again and couldn’t speak. Hermione looked hesitant but began to smile, her whole face alight as it flicked between him and Ginny; her brown eyes sparked under the gas lights. Harry instantly became wary as he stared at everyone around the table. ‘For…Memories sake, because this’ll probably be fixed quite soon, when Professor Dumbledore arrives…Can I take a photo? You know, for the photo album?’  
  
Harry blinked, then blinked at the magically modified camera in her hand, and because he didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings, he nodded. He felt like he was condemning himself to a photo though that would forever remind him of this. ‘Thank you!’ She waited until he was finished eating then grasped him and made him stand, then he was asked to pose for three different photos, not one, and then another three positioned with various remaining Order Members—these weren’t so bad, but then she asked the dreaded question. Harry’s eyes turned to glare at his best friend, cheeks puffed in annoyance and defiantly crossing his arms.  
  
‘Hermione…’ He expressed.  
  
It was made worse when others piped up and he had to exasperatedly glare at them.  
  
‘Please? Oh, pretty please Harry?’ She asked. It was a muggle thing but it would be interesting nonetheless. He sighed in exasperation, at least she seemed to have forgotten to make him pose with Snape or maybe that was just because of the man’s disgusted and dangerous glare that made her avoid that photo.  
  
‘What do I get if I do it?’ He asked, pressing his face forward into her personal space and staring intensely into her brown eyes and lightly freckled features. His emerald diamond eyes were unblinking.  
  
Hermione opened and closed her mouth and Ron laughed at her, saying ‘See, told you.’ Hermione glared at Ron for a second and then listened to Ginny as she got up and whispered secretly into her ear—Hermione’s eyes went around the room.  
  
Harry’s eyes narrowed, ears twitching and head titling. There was a twitch in his jaw and slight widening of eyes as Hermione finally mumbled, ‘You…what…um…No.’ Shaking her head. ‘You can’ she sighed, ‘anything you want Harry?’ she turned back to face him and held the camera up warily, unsure. She might have been better to take Ginny’s idea.   
  
‘Oh, anything, are you sure?’ He let his voice and eyes speak volumes about the vague answer she’d decided on giving him but Hermione merely held up the camera higher with a slight shrug. He rolled his green eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘Fine, whatever, it’s your consequence for vagueness though.’ He let that sit for a second then inhaling and exhaling sharply, held up his hands near his face. One near his eye, the other near his chin and then, he tipped them forward with a ‘Nya!’ and a roll of his eyes.  
  
CLICK  
  
‘Satisfied?’ He asked.  
  
‘Oh, very.’ She giggled and sat back down, looking for all the world like she was the cat that got the canary, or the cream, what have you. Ron groaned from across the table, his hands rummaging in his pockets. He wasn’t the only one as the twins, Hermione and Ginny laughed. Harry stared in disbelief. It wasn’t until he watched the money exchanging between various people at the table, including Snape that Harry narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth in peevishness.  
  
‘Excuse me, what’s that for?!’ He branched his hands.  
  
‘He bet you wouldn’t do it Harry, something about pride as a male.’ Hermione pointed to Ron. ‘As well as them, in varying degrees of proudness. Us, on the other hand, knew you would.’ She pointed to herself, the twins, Ginny, Snape and Remus. ‘Harmless fun Harry.’  
  
‘Yeah…Harmless…’ Harry glared at Hermione and the others, his tail bristled, his ears flat to his head and showing his sharp teeth and nails. He was not amused not even exasperatedly tolerant anymore. He stared straight at Snape and Remus, though it steadily wavered to mainly Snape. ‘You bet I would?!’  
  
Snape shrugged a shoulder flippantly, ‘No one said it was illegal to make some bets with my students over the summer holidays. Besides Potter, do you never not do anything Miss Granger asks of you?’  
  
Harry floundered a moment, opening and closing his mouth; he could think of a few.  
  
‘Besides the clearly obviously and most responsible and logical thing to do when you’re seeking trouble?’ Harry stared at the man’s own exasperated expression. He stared backwards and forwards between the people at the table and the people entering the kitchen in the heat of the moment—his mood getting worse.  
  
‘Just a bit of fun, Cub.’  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
Snape nodded once with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. ‘Sit down Potter.’ Harry did so reluctantly, careful as he was still unused to having something attached to his bottom that could get in the way as he sat down; it had begun to ache a little bit as well…’Perhaps you would like to mention how you even did this to yourself?’ Harry looked up, having had his head staring down at a roll he hadn’t eaten yet. He had been wondering when someone was going to ask, or in fact if someone was going too.  
  
‘Uh…I brewed a potion, in my room…’  
  
‘How?’ He reiterated.  
  
Everyone looked between them, like they waiting for something. ‘I…Took a cauldron, some ingredients, a phial, my potions book and a burner from school…’ He was talking slowly.  
  
The man blinked, ‘What potion?’  
  
Harry made a circuit of his lips with his tongue, making them shine and then bit into his cheek. Should he really tell the man, should he tell him the truth?  
  
‘Do not lie to me.’  
  
He bit harder. ‘A…Healing potion…’ It wasn’t a completely lie. It just wasn’t completely the truth either. Snape’s eyes narrowed and Harry tried hard at making himself look innocent.  
  
‘What healing potion?’  
  
Damn.  
  
Damn. Damn.   
  
Damn.  
  
‘…Vivos Fix Internum Injuriam.’  
  
Snape’s black eyes narrowed, ‘and why, precisely would you need to brew that?’  
  
‘Um…I just…I just picked it?’ He swallowed heavily without thinking and Snape’s eyes narrowed further that he looked like he was squinting in the low lighting.  
  
‘Oh, really?’ an eyebrow arched.  
  
‘Um, yes?’ He nodded slowly, avoiding Snape’s scanning intense black pits.  
  
‘Healing potions, no matter the kind Potter, do not give people Feline attributes. What, did you, do?’ The tennis match kept going, everyone’s eyes backwards and forwards.  
  
‘Nothing! I did it right!’ He hadn’t meant to sound so defensive and vehement but he had in fact done it right, otherwise he’d still have internal injuries and it wouldn’t have been the correct colour or texture that it had been. This was why he didn’t understand this outcome either. It was frustrating!  
  
Snape sighed and rubbed at his temples. ‘Well, you can’t have, can you? You wouldn’t be in this state of yours if you had, done it right that is. Why on earth you would even try, let alone think, that attempting a potion so advanced, in your muggle relative’s home, with no supervision, and with your potions skill, or lack-there-of, is beyond my comprehension to begin with Potter. That’s plain idiocy.’  
  
Harry growled in his throat at the insults. He did know it had been incredibly stupid though so he couldn’t really say anything to deny it.  
  
‘Where is the phial?’  
  
‘In my room…’ Harry mumbled down at the table, ears flicking. Snape went to stand. ‘…at the Dursley’s…’ Snape sat heavily straight back down and smacked the table; hard. Harry jumped and hissed.   
  
‘Why haven’t you said anything before this?’ He growled, ignoring Harry’s start. ‘Some potions are useless a few hours later—I’ll be lucky to examine the remains now.’ He grumbled.  
  
Harry fiddled with his hands and shrugged. ‘Nobody asked…’  
  
‘They’ve probably removed it by now along with whatever piles of empty plates you possess in your room.’  
  
Harry shook his head with his friends. ‘They don’t touch my room. Weren’t you listening to anything my Uncle said when you were there? Those weren’t heat of the moment comments Professor. It’ll still be there…’ There was a moment of silence and Snape finally stood again, walked out of the kitchen and they heard the flaring of the fireplace as he disappeared. Harry sighed despondently.  
  
‘Harry…’ It was Ron, and Hermione.  
  
He stared at them, unblinking.  
  
‘You don’t think that maybe you should have mentioned something…’ Hermione trailed off as Harry began to shake his head immediately.  
  
‘No…It’s fi…’ He stood quickly, chair scraping back across the tiles. ‘SHIT!’ He swore, having forgotten entirely. How the fuck had he forgotten?! He stood there, hands on the table, standing frozen to the spot, ignoring Mrs Weasley and Remus’ reprimand. What was he supposed to do now? Snape was already gone and they weren’t going to let him Floo by himself anywhere, let alone to Mrs Figg’s house with her cats and her cabbage. This was worse than his friends believed; his had his secrets, his deep dark secrets apart from his friends. This wasn’t about the locks that Snape would find on his door. This was about the baroness that was his bedroom, it wasn’t even about the cat-flap for the food when he was allowed it being locked up, or the bars that were once again on his window, no, this was about what was inside his room this minute, on the walls, on the floor, on the bed and in his cupboard. Hell would freeze over before the Order would ever allow Harry to go anywhere himself.  
  
Fuck! He swore mentally this time, his feline features going haywire; his nails clawing at the tabletop in anxiety and anger at himself.  
  
//r//  
  
KNOCK  
  
KNOCK  
  
Severus tapped his foot as he waited for the large oaf that was yelling inside to come and open the door, and, apparently, yell at him. He patiently waited for the whale of a man to run out of breath before taking a step forward, effectively causing the man to take his own few steps back until Severus was standing completely inside once more.  
‘Believe me, I take no pleasure in being back here so soon, or at all, but I need to collect something Potter left in his room. Upstairs?’ He pointed and headed for the stairs—a large hand grabbed and halted him, the hand on his arm. He turned his body slowly around, his foot raised to step up falling back to the ground in annoyance. ‘Yes?’ He enunciated.  
  
‘What do you need to collect in that whelp’s room?’  
  
‘That isn’t really any of your concern, now is it? Care to tell me where Potter’s room is upstairs or should I check every room myself?’ The large man frowned, seemingly confused but spoke gruffly.  
  
‘You’ll see it. Just up the stairs.’ Het let go and Severus gladly walked up the stairs. The whale stayed down by the bottom step, looking up. Severus stopped however as he got to a door that was entirely covered with locks on one side, and strangely, a cat-flap; he wasn’t aware Potter owned one though, so this was odd. He looked toward the stairs and frowned, eyes narrowing and took that cautious step forward, pushing the opened door backwards into the room. He gasped. Involuntarily taking a step back, he placed a hand to his mouth. Red. Everything was spattered with dark crimson stains. Was it, paint? No, he shook his head. It smelt strange and why were there sheets bundled up and slipping out of that broken cupboard? If that wasn’t trying to hide something, Severus didn’t know what was.

  
He took a heavy breath, still covering his mouth; this wasn’t blood, was it? He took a step further in and couldn’t help but close his eyes in agony. He nodded at himself, the smell was that of blood. He held out his wand and tapped it against a thick spot on the wall closest to him, beside a bunch of claw marks dredged into the plaster—he’d take a sample. He’d know later if it belonged to Potter. This was, after all, the boy’s bedroom. The owl pictures, that spoke how surprisingly good he was at drawing, the few school books that had been left behind on a shelf above a reddened mattress, that barely hang onto the wall. The cauldron set up in the corner behind the door—the boy had clearly been in a rush to leave with them, leaving all this important stuff behind. He swallowed and rummaged around, carefully, pulling out his dragonhide gloves, trying to find the phial that he was there for. When he did, inside the boy’s desk drawer, with a ravaged eagle feather quill, some paper, a shattered ink well that spread disastrously within and something that looked decidedly disastrous for someone’s health. He picked up the potion remnants with the piece of twisted metal, thoughts running a mile through his head; he needed to get out of there.  
  
He spelled the books to him, not wanting to go anywhere near the bloodied materials, the cauldron was merely collapsible so he grabbed that, shrinking it and shoved it into his pocket and quickly stepped from the room, down the stairs and out the door with not so much as a polite “thank you” and Flooed first to his dungeon lab, a thank you to the batty old squib and then back to Grimmauld Place some hours later; he needed to have words with Potter. Now.  
  
His gloved hand shook around the vial, the bloodied metal, and with the books jostling inside his coat pocket as he walked heavily, he stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld. The place was quiet well into the early morning hours but there was still some people about, variously scribbling, reading or chatting. The emergency meeting of the Order that Dumbledore hadn’t deigned to show up at, had dispersed long ago so he didn’t know why any of them were still here.  
  
The Weasley’s and Granger, he understood. He shrugged though, it wasn’t his problem.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry frantically paced their shared bedroom as Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway, looking at him with some serious concern. He totally understood it because he wouldn’t be freaking out over the things they believed he should have mentioned. They didn’t know. They really didn’t know and he have the heart or the mind to tell that his life at the Dursley’s was worse, much worse, than he’d told them and in fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to tell his best friends, or ever wished too. They already knew enough and everyone already knew too much about his life as it was, so he wasn’t about to tell anybody else his plight. Though…That wasn’t to say that before it had gotten extremely worse that he hadn’t tried to tell somebody. He’d attempted to tell his teachers in primary school when they saw bruises but all he’d got in return for his pleading help and truths was shunning and told not to tell lies because Dudley was always perfectly fine and mannerly—he’d always been shown as someone that was finding trouble.  
He kept biting at his lengthened nails, travelling around the room in a circular motion of his socked feet; his hair was a mess from his hands running through it repeatedly, not that it wasn’t always messy and his tail was swishing back and forwards so fast that it whipped anybody and in fact, it had before. He’d whipped Mrs Weasley’s backside with it in the kitchen; after repeat apologies, they come up here to pace, or he had, his friends had simply followed him to watch him do it. He was frazzled, tail bristled in anxiety and annoyance and his ears so flat to his head that he almost felt that they’d returned to normal.  
  
Harry couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten, how, how the fuck could he have been so stupid to have forgotten about what he’d left behind?! But then…He froze a moment, this was Snape, right? Snape, Git, Asshole, Great irritating Prat that despised Harry and took out all his resentment of James Potter out on the son, on Harry, even though…  
He liked to grope Harry’s tail now and occasionally looked at him with frustrated annoyance yes but he always seemed to keep Harry alive when he got himself in trouble—ever since he’d started Hogwarts, right? That didn’t mean though, right, that the man cared for him in anyway, surely? The man had no caring feelings…Right? There was no way he’d freak out over something so…so…  
  
‘HARRY JAMES POTTER!’  
  
Harry jumped with his friends and probably half the Order in Headquarters right now. He swallowed, closed his eyes and flinched all in one motion as he heard the man’s yell travel up the stairs in anger. He’d clearly just returned, several other voices chimed in asking the man why he was shouting on his return hours later, so late, storming about the house intent on looking for the raven-haired teen.  
  
The raven shook his head desperately at his friends as they turned back from the doorway to stare at him, meaningfully. They bit their tongues, nodding at his desperation—even unknowing they would back him up, they were loyal to a fault. Gryffindor’s always were. They headed down the stairs, closing the door quietly, their footsteps slow, deliberate, unsure. The steps paused halfway down and Harry’s ears pricked up to hear why—Snape’s troubled voice registered. ‘Where’s Potter?’  
  
Harry sighed pleaded that they say something, not remain silent. if they did that, Snape was bound to know immediately they knew where he was hiding. He was bound to see straight through them, not that there still wasn’t a chance that could happen. ‘Don’t know…He ran off earlier…We were searching…’ Oh, thank god! Thanks Ron! Harry thought, holding his hands up in prayer.  
  
‘Did he now? Were you?’ It was questioning and completely disbelieving. ‘Well, if you should come across him, somewhere in the house, you will let him know that he has to come out sometime. A person can only go so long without food, water, and toilet breaks. You see, I’m rather curious about a little oddity I ran into at the Dursley’s, in fact, I’m sure everyone would be rather curious, including his loyal friends, I’m sure.’ ‘so, you will mention it to him, won’t you, when you see him?’ Harry frowned in befuddlement at Snape’s tones. It was strange. It was almost like the man was smiling through his words, like he was incredibly pissed off even but being tolerant and bemusedly waiting—it must have been a sight for his friends.  
  
Harry heard a warbling ‘Sh-sure…’ followed by his friends, and he thought, Snape descending the stairs but alas, one was heading right towards him. Fuck, Snape wasn’t fucking around—Harry did have to come out eventually…He was already starting to feel like he needed use the facilities and there wasn’t a bathroom in here. The man, obviously having seen everything now had a million questions to quiz Harry with, though what those were or why Snape would care, Harry wasn’t certain.  
Harry wacked his head against the wall behind the closed door softly and slid down, bending his legs up to rest his aching head to his knees.  
What was Snape doing, what was he aiming for. What did he feel and what was that pausing of feet only for them to further up the staircase?  
  
He wasn’t sure how long it was before there was a,  
  
KNOCK  
  
KNOCK.  
  
He jumped at it, not having been expecting it and tried to flatten himself further against the peeling wallpaper. ‘I am well aware you’re in there, Potter. I am not stupid and frankly the fact that you even thought you could get away with thinking it is ridiculous. I gave you time, now…I will give you a few options.’ He paused and Harry held his breath. ‘I can leave you be once more to think about how you’re going to explain what the hell I saw at the Dursley’s, in your own time, willingly, then find out what you did or did not do with the potion you brewed evidently to heal something you’re hiding.’  
  
Harry blinked, eyes wandering.  
  
‘Or…I could open this door with ease and drag you downstairs, unwillingly, to answer the questions I wish the answers too. You will not like this. Or…’  
  
‘No!’ Harry shouted.  
  
Snape went on like Harry hadn’t vehemently shouted an interruption. ‘Or, we can go back to option one where you explain it yourself willingly in your own time, with the added knowledge about your situation and that you wouldn’t be acting like a coward, or the little brat that you are right now; you have to come out now however.’ Harry frowned down at his knees, clenching his arms around them and eyeing his swishing tail as it lashed around them in anger. It was all puffed up and trembling, the most he’d seen yet and he was sure his ears were equally so, plastered to his head. He knew entire body was trembling, he felt like he was vibrating. His tail ached a little more too, so that wasn’t helping—he wasn’t sure why though and he wasn’t acting like a brat…or a coward.  
  
Those were frankly shitting options, he didn’t want to do any of it. He clenched his teeth, grinding them into duller points. Snape’s deep tone penetrated the door again, when a few minutes of silence had greeted his options. ‘I will give you at most, five minutes Mister Potter. If you are not down in that sitting room by then for option one, I will pick your answer myself and I assure you, you will not take kindly to that option. Do you understand?’ He gave no time for Harry to answer, not that he was going too. The Potioneers feet were walking down the stairs and leaving Harry to ponder Snape’s threat.  
  
//r//  
  
He chose to ignore the man’s words and the few he heard murmured to the Order members he knew, climbing slowly to his feet. What was he going to do? He wasn’t going to let Snape taunt him like this was he? Or was he going to sit here forever, holding onto his bladder and grinding away at his teeth? He could face it like a man, but he was sure option 1 was no longer an option. True, he was barely sixteen-years-old but he was still a man nonetheless. He’d seen more horrifying things than most people his age.  
The inky-haired teen gulped, steeling himself with a nod and a heavy exhale. He silently walked to the bathroom, relieved himself, thoroughly washed his hands and walked down the stairs to the bottom last step.  
  
He froze there, his hands were in his trouser pockets, his tail was wrapped firmly around his leg and his ears were flat to his bird’s nest.  
  
Hermione was the first one to spot him as he huddled in the doorframe, about to turn around in all honesty after having seen that everyone, everyone that had remained at Headquarters had congregated into the sitting room. He had no idea what option this was supposed to be, he knew for sure it wasn’t option one, it wasn’t revised option one, it certainly wasn’t option 2 or any revised option 2. None of the options had mentioned anyone else downstairs.  
  
‘Oh Harry!’ He partially ignored her but allowed the hug she crushed him with, green eyes searching through her bushy strands and counting the numbers. Spouses, friends, there were even offspring from only partially known members there that weren’t supposed to be—none of them looked happy though and more than half looked like they already knew something was up. He blinked when Hermione stepped back, holding him at arms-length, her brown eyes shimmering under the lights.  
  
Okay. He understood. They had. They’d been told something, he just wasn’t sure what that something was or how bad that something had been, but they all knew something and they had all been told that something by man casually standing by the fireplace passing an empty potions vial between his gloved palms with something else glinting under the light of the fire and the chandelier that hung overhead. Harry started to breath heavily, angrily, You, fucking tattle tale, as he forcefully jerked himself from his friend’s hands. His diamond eyes locked to Snape’s across the room, at least until there was a sudden cough in the corner. He turned immediately back to the teacher though as Snape turned back to stare. Harry’s eyes narrowed dangerously, claws digging crescents into his callused palms.  
  
‘Pleased to know you be a man, sometimes, Potter, and not a child.’ Harry’s eyes went to increasingly harder to see slits and he was sure blood dropped from his palms to the carpet as his nails dug deeper into the tough skin. It was all he could do not to come forward, leaping across the room and strangle his Potions Professor until he stopped breathing.  
  
He was silently screaming as the man continued to speak. He was screaming, LIAR.  
  
TATTLE TALE.  
  
LIAR.  
  
LIAR.  
  
LIAR.  
  
TATTLE TALING LIAR.  
  
LIAR.  
  
LIAR!!!  
  
‘You brewed the potion correctly, which believe me was a massive surprise so it evidently has nothing to do with your recent development into the world of human feline. That would appear to be something else entirely that we’ll have to look into ASAP, interesting as it is. I have talked with the Headmaster on the subject as he couldn’t make the meeting earlier because of other last-minute engagements. He has no idea, apparently. Whether you’ve been cursed with a delayed timer or not, we don’t know but it needs to be sorted out before the start of the new school term in a month. On that note, are you actually feeling the same or are you feeling different?’  
  
Harry clenched his teeth, obviously he wasn’t the same anymore. ‘I told you. I’m fine and what else is there besides the time-delayed curse suggestion? It was probably Malfoy. We did see him before train took off back to King’s Cross with us—after that, he kept his ferrety nose down at his own end of train.’ He huffed.  
  
Severus eyebrows rose. ‘Watch your tone Potter, I am still your Teacher and Malfoy is one of your classmates. You’ve another 2 years before you could even think about speaking to me in such a disrespectful way, boy.’ Harry stared, rearing back his head in disbelief. He couldn’t care less if he showed disrespect for any of his teachers right now, least of all Snape. The man had straight up fucking lied to him and had told everyone in here at least something about what he saw on his return to the Dursley’s home; he really should have tried harder to conceal things true, but he hadn’t believed anyone but himself would go back there.  
  
‘Don’t call me boy and you’re sucking a fucking liar. You haven’t earnt my respect, I’ll talk to you however the fucking way I want.’ He glared.  
  
‘I beg your pardon?’ The man’s features darkened and Hermione, he was 90% sure, with Molly and such had just gasped at him in disbelief. Harry kept his mouth shut this time and simply crossed his arms in defiance. ‘First off, my respect, for you? Oh, Potter, you haven’t begun to earn your own, not the way your acting like a spoiled little brat. Now, would you care to explain the reason we are all down here instead of in our beds and enlighten us about what I walked into at the Dursley’s? Why, when I walked up to your room which by the way has locks on it that are clearly intended to keep you within it, a cat-flap at the bottom to push food through I assume and bars on your window, but not only this…Everything was splattered in blood, from your sheets which were obviously shoved hazardously into your wardrobe to conceal them, to the mattress which your pillow was woefully inaccurate at hiding, to the walls that had claw markings to the carpet that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the last time it was stained crimson?’ He stared pointedly, and took a step away from the fireplace, placing the now empty and cleaned vial onto the mantel as he did so; he kept the twisted metal in one hand, withdrew the glove from his other and shoving it in a pocket.  
  
Harry shrugged, coming further into the room. ‘Not really, no.’ He shook his head.  
  
‘It had not been optional Potter.’  
  
‘Well, it had sounded pretty like one, sir.’ Oh, weren’t it good he wasn’t currently in school so Snape couldn’t legally take points and cost them a House Cup before the school year even started; his housemates would kill him.  
  
‘Do not test me, Potter.’ Snape’s obsidian eyes had narrowed and his feet took two more steps forward, brandishing something that Harry’s eyes locked onto almost immediately; no, no way.   
  
He’d taken that?  
  
He breathed shakily. ‘Don’t say things like statements the way you did then, or frankly, don’t tell people things you said you fucking wouldn’t. You fucking liar.’ Harry had muttered this, but with the voices that sprang up in the room afterwards, he hadn’t quiet achieved the level of quietness he’d been going for.

Snape’s brows lowered angrily. He was looking incredibly pissed by every minute that passed. ‘Oh? Is that right. I gave you those first five minutes as stated, in all actuality it was probably closer to seven. You didn’t come downstairs. I followed up with my own option, Potter. I told you this. I told you would not like the consequences. It was your decision to ignore my graciousness. Now, as I am an Adult Potter, one that has seen some pretty damn horrific things, but never have I seen such horrific things in a teenager’s room before.’ Not even my own. ‘Let alone a baron one. Do you think, honestly, that I would not tell the people that cared most for that child, after I’d seen something like that?’ the twisted metal, tipped with rusting blood was brandished around again.  
  
Harry’s eyes flicked around, watching it and moved around the room discreetly from beneath his fringe. He murmured, ‘Not without permission, no. You shouldn’t. You couldn’t have even known what that was so easily.’ He grumbled.  
  
‘You’re right but I know when I smell blood or see it encrusted on an item. I’m sure most people wouldn’t miss that, let alone would they miss it after taking a sample and testing it. As for your permission regarding everything, when would I ever receive that from you, Potter?’ Harry shook his head in the negative even as Snape had begun to shake his own, answering his own question. ‘No. I would not and neither would your friends, though loyal to a fault, would they? You had no plans to tell them at all, did you?’ again, without looking at anybody, his hair falling into his eyes Harry shook his head. But that was the way he wanted it; they didn’t need to know everything. Why wasn’t he allowed to keep some deep dark secrets? It was his life, wasn’t it? He wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t saintly, no one was. Were they that delusional about their “prophesied saviour” that they couldn’t even entertain the idea that he wasn’t pure?  
  
They already knew he was starved for love and food at his relatives, those he was close to anyway; wasn’t that enough? They already fussed over how much he ate every time he did, was it not enough that people knew more then he knew about himself? Shit, Hermione had known more about him than he did before they were friends and she was Muggleborn and wouldn’t have grown up with him being a household name. Wasn’t it enough that he was supposed to have guards outside his house twenty-four seven making sure that he didn’t run away, but weren’t seemingly anywhere when all of the bad shit happened? That he kept his family blood wards intact every year even though he’d tried to tell Dumbledore about his plight? Multiple times and had simply been thrown back to the Dursley’s, unlistened too? Harry was slowly shaking his head, still, head lowered so that he didn’t end up seeing Snape’s head nod or notice that Mrs Weasley had done something to the glass of pumpkin juice that she handed to him with her sweet, comforting, reprimanding, teary-sounding voice blurring in his ears.  
  
He coughed, sputtering, dropping the glass to smash, evidently brittle, onto the carpet after he took a mouthful. Swiping his hand over his mouth he spat onto the floor, he started frantically wiping at his mouth, at his cat-like rough tongue with his fingers as he looked up through his forelocks, his eyes turned feral green—they were threatening, looking betrayed by those he loved. How dare they?  
  
HOW FUCKING DARE, THEY?!  
  
Were they simply that desperate to know his every waking moment and secret that they would in fact drug him, to find out?!  
  
‘How could you…’  
  
‘I am so sorry dear…’ She looked it too.  
  
Harry didn’t care. He hissed, outraged as he was pushed back into a chair before he could lash out at her or anybody nearby. The chair hadn’t been there before, dragged by the twins, both looking apologetic—this had obviously been orchestrated by Snape before his appearance downstairs. ‘How fucking dare, you.’  
  
‘How fucking DARE, you!!’ He growled as Snape quickly rushed forward, kneeling to block Harry’s only path of escape; the fireplace. Not that he couldn’t have tried to get past the twins behind him, in front of the only other exit from sitting room, but the fireplace would have gotten him out of this infernal house, even if it made him sick… Apparently, they all really were that desperate. He felt the serum start to rush through his body and he growled again before Snape could open his mouth and the metal was sat on the edge of the armrest, in plain sight of Harry’s stare. ‘HOW DARE YOU?!?! Harry finally screamed at them, bringing his body forward, ‘I TRUSTED YOU!!!’ only to be held back into the chair by Snape’s hands gripping his wrists, the twin’s hands on his shoulders. The teacher’s body was held back from Harry’s hissing sharp canines as they snapped at him freely.  
  
He was feral with rage. Harry’s nails though dug into the armrests. Why they need to know everything? Why, why couldn’t he have secrets? Why did they need to know everything? Why did they need to be so in control of Harry’s life?!  
  
‘First off’ Snape finally breathed, hands tight. ‘Trying to attack is uncalled for, and what is this?’ he aimed his head down at the twisted metal on the armrests edge, before Harry’s hands. Harry immediately clenched his jaw shut as the words tried to spew forth—it was potent. The pull was strong to spill his innermost darkest secrets. It was undeniably Snape’s own recipe. Fuck. Harry’s nails dug further into the upholstery, pulling up foam and spring. His emerald eyes showed his defiance, his rage as he internally screamed at them all and hisses his damns.  
  
Damn.  
  
Damn him!  
  
Damn them!  
  
Damn him!  
  
Damn him!  
  
Damn them!  
  
Damn it!  
  
‘Potter.’ Snape’s voice was demanding. Fucking greasy haired bastard. “My hand might just slip over your morning pumpkin juice”. It hadn’t happened in the year since and Harry hadn’t been the one stealing from his personal stores back then, and it certainly wasn’t his…Well, it could have been morning, very early morning, he had no idea, he hadn’t checked a clock, or asked, but it was still veritaserum and a pretty fucking potent one and it had still been pumpkin juice—it hadn’t been Snape either. The black-haired teen growled, smacking his head harshly back against the upholstery. He did it over and over until a hand came up and grabbed for his chin, tight and unyielding; the thumb pressing in his jaw bone. This was Snape’s hand, Harry knew even with eyes firmly closed. There was only one hand now keeping Harry’s to the armrest but he didn’t shift, there wasn’t any point. He wouldn’t get anywhere. He simply dug his nails in deeper, clinking into the springs in the silence. Opening his eyes, he stared back with his defiance and then narrowed them, glaring hatefully as the man asked once more, putting emphasis on the words in a tone that implied he was impressed with Harry’s will to ignore the serum to this degree.  
  
Harry’s tongue rolled around the answer almost immediately this time, clenched through his pointed teeth and bitten lips. It was a hiss. ‘It’s a featherless quill.’  
  
The older man frowned, probably unsure. ‘Why has it been twisted around itself several times and covered in blood? Is this quill yours, is the blood?’

Harry hissed but his mouth, now that it had been pressured into answering once now did it again. Snape’s hand dropped back down to hold Harry’s wrist as it twitched. Not that it was of course going anywhere…yet. ‘Because it obviously works better. It is mine, and yes, but it’s equally covered in my cousin’s.’ Snape seemed to find the answer a bit disturbing so with a bit of hesitation he went on to the next question; he was probably going to come back to that at some point. This was going to go from disturbing to a lot more disturbing, if this line of questioning continued.  
  
They asked for it.  
  
They’d forced it.  
  
They’d have to live with knowing it when Harry had no choice but to tell them.  
  
‘Was it your blood I saw in that room?’ Though Severus already knew this be true.  
  
‘Yes.’ Harry gritted out, morphing it into a bit of a hiss on its ascend into the air.  
  
He nodded. ‘As I said before. I was already aware of this. Now, on that note…with so much blood in that baron room of yours, and with the amount on this twisted quill of yours, regardless of some being your cousin’s…Did you perhaps try to kill yourself? And why would your cousin’s blood be on this quill?’ Harry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself as he heard several echoing gasps throughout the sitting room. He may wind up in trouble 50% of the time, perhaps more but it sought him out, he didn’t seek it and he may have a bit of depression that was to do with his Godfather’s recent descend into the veil at the Ministry, and he may have been spiteful that Dumbledore had refused to listen to him about anything he said and forced him to take lessons with Snape about Occlumency that he didn’t want to take, which had inadvertently made him cross the line and delve into Snape’s pensieve and he’d had to apologise for it, then for Dumbledore to ignore him his entire Fifth year only to tell him something extremely important about his future that revolved around a prophecy with him and Voldemort, right after his Godfather’s death and after he’d been possessed at the Ministry by said Voldemort and sure he was going through hell at “home” but he wasn’t suicidal, gees, give him a break.  
  
‘No.’ He said not even a slight hesitation in the word. ‘Because I hurt him with it.’  
  
Snape floundered for a moment but then nodded his head, ‘Alright, good. One potential issue resolved, and why did you lash out at your cousin with this quill? Was it because he hurt you, was blood around your room because someone else, perhaps your relatives hurt you?’ His tone and face were questioning. Harry personally did have something against the Dursley’s but he didn’t want anyone to know about his “home” life, well how bad it truly was, so he tried harder to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, with Snape’s fingers digging once more into his jaw, Harry jerked with a wince and opened his mouth to emit the groan—the words spewed forth with it.  
  
The answer was a little awkward around the first two questions here because they basically answered themselves. So, Harry had to basically repeat that he’d been hurt by Dudley and so, after wrestling himself free he’d taken the quill and lashed out; he was sure Dud had a bit of a big scar across his chest now; it had been pretty deep.  
His other answer was simply a ‘Yes’, they were responsible for the blood in his room.  
  
‘I see…and have they hurt you before yesterday in such a horrendous fashion?’ Harry blinked, so it was late enough or early enough to call it yesterday. He wondered what the actual time was, why everyone thought to do this so late.  
  
It seemed silly.  
  
But important to them, he supposed.  
  
‘Yes.’ He swore.  
  
‘I see…You often receive physical abuse from them?’  
  
‘When I’m in their line of sight on a bad day, otherwise no.’  
  
‘And what else would you usually be doing?’ Snape asked, frowning.  
  
‘Chores.’ Harry shrugged.  
  
‘Such as?’  
  
Harry stared. ‘Weeding the garden. Mowing the lawn. Painting the fence or the house. Weeding Aunt Petunia’s flowerbeds. Watering the front and backyards. Recleaning the house, cleaning out the shed. Make them food. Wash the dishes.’ Harry heaved a sigh, his fingers were twitching as he listened off.  
  
Everyone blinked. ‘Indeed. And do you have breakfast, lunch and dinner between those?’  
  
‘Sometimes.’ He shrugged.  
  
‘What do you mean by that Mister Potter?’ he frowned fiercely.  
  
‘Well, I only eat breakfast at the Dursley’s if I’m up earlier than them and that’s usually if they haven’t decided to lock the bedroom door because they want me up early to make them breakfast before work, or whatever…I barely get lunch because I’m outside doing the chores that Dudley should be doing, it’s rare if I can sneak a bit of bread from the pantry let alone a sip from the hose.’ He dragged his eyes sidewards, taking a breath. ‘Then sometimes I have to stop what I’m doing because something else needs to be done or Dudley wants to bully me into going and getting him something from the corner shop—this usually makes me work harder when I’m allowed back to my task, If I’m not finished by the time my Uncle gets home I’m punished, no matter what kind of truth I spew.  
  
Half the time, I’m pulled away by Aunt Petunia because she wants me making sandwiches for her Lady’s club or whatever the hell she has them all over for during the week, but at least if I do that she lets me take a few.’ He took another breath. ‘Then, half the time I’m avoiding Dudley. I cook them dinner too, have you seen my cousin and my uncle Professor, they barely leave scrapes for me to eat when they’ve finished their own. My aunt barely eats anything…’  
  
Severus rubbed a hand down the side of his face at this and made a noise in his throat. This was just getting worse. ‘Have they ever mentally abused you?’  
  
‘They always do.’ Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I’ve said before, you heard my Uncle calling me Freak and thing and he probably called me something else when you went back there.’ His shoulders shrugged in a, “tell me he didn’t?”  
  
The man sighed, ‘I did indeed. Your aunt, has she ever been involved in any of this. Physically?’ he almost sounded like he would love to hear that she was involved but almost tired in the same tone, or frustrated that he’d never noticed any of the signs of being abused, that Harry clearly displays. Harry wasn’t sure why Snape would love to hear something like that but he shirked it aside, unsure why any of this would matter to Snape in the first place. It was hard to give the answer however because though his aunt didn’t physically abuse him beside a smack to the back of the head, or backside, he thought she was still abusing him in a different sense of the word. ‘Potter?’  
Harry jumped but he was unsure so his answer of ‘No’ was hesitant.

‘Your aunt did not mistreat you?’ he sounded unconvinced.  
  
Harry shook his head, ‘I didn’t say that.’  
  
‘Then precisely what did you say Mister Potter?’ his eyebrows rose.  
  
He heaved a ragged breath, coming to the point that he simply wasn’t sure he cared enough to stay angry anymore, oh, he’d be beyond royally pissed once this was all said and done but right now, he just didn’t have any choice but to answer the onslaught of questions. ‘You asked if she was involved physically, she wasn’t, unless you count a few smacks to the back of the head or backside, or throwing me into boiling hot showers or baths when I was younger…Which is traumatising in itself actually, it took me years to get back in bathtub after I almost drowned when she walked back out—I was three.’ He shivered. ‘Or making me cook over a hot stove when I was only seven. I’ve been cooking that long, it’s why I don’t suck at it, but it’s why I don’t like it that much either, because I’m not doing it for me or for people I care about.’ He took another deep breath, ‘She mistreated me but she wasn’t physical in the sense you’re asking, but she wasn’t verbal either, in fact I think there were a few times she sent me out on errands outside the house to avoid my uncle’s anger—I’d be out all day and wouldn’t come back until they were ready for bed, he’d long since calmed down by then and there are those times that she lets me have food. There’s no love lost there, it was never there, but she has her moments of clarity that I’m her nephew.’  
  
Snape hummed, contemplative. ‘So, it is only your uncle and your cousin that are the physical sort?’ Harry nodded his head, verbally intoning a “yes”. He hummed again, clearly thinking about what to say next. ‘Yesterday, what exactly did they do to you for your room to be splattered with blood like that, and the claw marks, are those human?’  
Harry coughed, mouth closing as he choked, nails digging further into the springs.  
  
Snape waited patiently.

‘Uh…’ He tried not to let the words out. ‘Hit…me…’ you could see, he was sure everyone could see that he had not let the rest of the sentence out. His jaw was clenched to the point that he thought he was going to dislocate it and his teeth were grinding so much against each other that he was sure they would once more be blunt.  
  
Snape’s fingers were making their own bruises on Harry’s wrists. ‘Potter, what else did they do to you? Were the claw markings human?’ His brows had lowered in irritation and frustration—for the boy to be resisting the serum even a little bit, against Severus own recipe, he had some good will power and maybe…It didn’t work quite as well as it should be considering Potter’s current sub-human status.  
  
‘…Did…me…’ He swore as the words hissed out. ‘Yes.’ His eyes began to sting as he heard the slightly confused but comprehending gasps and a sob as the ones slightly confused were told by the ones that understood it immediately. He was sure Molly had been one of the ones to gasp and sob, followed by the other women in the room.  
  
Fuck.  
  
His head and heart were in conflict—they’d started this. This was their fault. They’d wanted this, they’d wanted to know every little detail about Harry’s life. They’d betrayed to get all this information, they’d willing drugged him to force him to tell them but he hated to hear his loved one’s cry. There was yet more he was going to be forced to tell them too and they were already sobbing after just a word…This was not going to end well. To be frank, he didn’t mind if the Dursley’s were about to be in a life-threatening situation more than they already were housing Harry Potter from Voldemort and his Death Eaters but he thought the one that most deserved any life threatening or hateful howlers was the man that sent Harry to the Dursley’s time after time even knowing what Harry went through each summer, or at least a bit of it but ignoring it because Harry had to go back to renew the blood wards; he was safe there. He was only safe there until they got angry enough to kill him then where would the wizarding world be? And who’s fault would it be? Dumbledore’s. He deserved the hate mail more than the Dursley’s.  
  
Harry had gone to him time and time again. He’d long since been wondering where home was anymore, because he wasn’t sure it was at Hogwarts anymore either. Perhaps he should buy his own home? He had enough galleons to do so and in fact probably owned one already under the Potter name, surely. If only he was 17 already and could get in possession of the rest of his vault, because surely, he had a family vault, a vault that had more than money in it? His was simply what his parents had set aside for him…  
He tuned back into the conversation, or lack thereof with slightly glassy eyes and watched Snape rub at his temples. His dark eyes almost sparking but with what emotion Harry wasn’t sure; as he looked up into Harry’s stinging orbs, a tear at the corner of his eyelash—one tear had already fallen, unnoticed, another fell barely noticed by Harry. He took more notice of Snape’s black bottomless-pitted eyes—they were almost hypnotising.  
  
He jumped, hissing as fingers snapped rather harshly in front of his nose. His entire body jerked back into the armchair. ‘Focus Potter, keep your mind here. Your uncle and your cousin, I’m assuming when you said, “did me” you meant they not only physically hit you but they physically molested you?’  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
‘They had intercourse with you?’ His words were strained and his face was screwed up as if the thought made him sick—and it probably did, it made Harry feel sick and dirty.  
  
‘Yes…’ He mumbled barely a whisper of breath.  
  
‘Did they do this together?’ his words really did sound pained, eyebrows drawn in.  
  
‘Uh…’ Harry’s face contorted.  
  
‘Did they not do this together?’  
  
‘I don’t understand the question…’ He shook his head.  
  
His teacher sighed, ‘were they both in the same room with you, doing you simultaneously or was one of them standing to the side watching?’ He swallowed thickly.  
Harry’s eyes wandered to the side, taking a great interest suddenly in his nails dug so deep in the soft fabric that there was barely any foam left in the armrest to his left. Much like a cat’s claws, his were long and sharp and there. Claw marks marked the entire side of the armchair material, long thin gashes. ‘Yes…and No…’  
  
‘What?’  
  
Harry’s head lifted, that hadn’t been Snape. It was quick to lower again.  
  
‘Yes…and…No…’ Harry reiterated.  
  
‘Look at me Potter, hold your head up high. There’s no shame here.’ His fingers once more came up to take Harry’s jaw in his but Harry almost got away with jerking his head to the side, avoiding it. ‘Are you saying there were both having intercourse with you, at the same time?’ Harry’s eyes tried not to cross as he stared at the black pits.  
  
‘Yes.’ He said, sounding awfully detached from proceedings. He was still no less pissed off that he was being forced to do this. He had words to pick when the potion started to lessen and stopped forcing him to tell the truth, and when his body’s strength returned enough to use his claws and dig them into Snape’s pallid features for being such a fucking tattling lying bastard.  
  
‘Very well…’ He paused and scrubbed at the side of his skull with his free hand. ‘No one was watching as the other put their penis inside you. Both penises were inside you, at the same time, Salazar.’ He breathed shallowly, choking a little that he actually coughed after releasing Harry’s chin again. Harry wasn’t sure if Snape or everyone else was trying to picture it but the paling of the man’s already pale face kind of attested to it.  
  
‘Yes’ Harry blankly stated back.  
  
Snape seemed to be shuddering as he pressed fingers into the side of his skull. The Professor should have realised this wasn’t going anywhere pleasant. ‘You brewed the healing potion the same day, after these activities, did you brew it to fix the damage that would have caused?’  
  
Harry blinked, ‘I did, no, there wasn’t any damage, well, no more than usual. I can stand fine after that…They have been doing it longer than you think Professor…That’s not saying it doesn’t hurt. They go out of their way to make it so but I’m used to it.’ He shrugged.  
  
‘Nn, then what was the potion for Potter?’  
  
‘Internal abdominal injury, I suppose. It healed my wrist too.’  
  
‘They were intending for you have trouble breathing?’  
  
Harry shrugged, ‘I don’t know. They were angry, and they wanted to go out.’  
  
‘It was quick?’  
  
‘I don’t watch a clock while they fuck me Professor.’ Harry blinked lazily, spoke it.  
  
‘Nn.’ There was pregnant pause. ‘How long have you been having intercourse unwillingly with your relatives, for you to, quote on quote, be used to it?’ Again, his voice was strained and Harry was sure Molly’s sobs had gotten louder and someone, maybe Ron, was dry-heaving in the background.  
  
‘…Since I turned 14.’

Severus sighed heavily as he moved his hand from Harry’s wrist and pressed it against Harry’s covered stomach, pressing down slightly into toned muscles. Harry couldn’t help but wince since it was a bit tender, as the magic flowed into him and searched. ‘The potion you brewed, the Vivos Fix Internum Injuriam, is only a quick fix to an injury Potter. Something that would help immediately until you get proper attention; from the way your muscles are contracting and your hissing and wincing, it has healed at least a bit of your broken ribs and the internal bleeding, however, you will need a proper Medi Wizard or Witch to heal you and in fact, I believe you would need one anyway to check out your anal canal. You were not having safe sex and in fact, were unwillingly partaking in sex that could very well do some permanent damage unprepared, or not prepared well…’  
He went on, ‘the blood everywhere…I do not believe that simply stemmed from some physical blows, please tell me details.’ He looked prepared to hear the worst.  
  
Harry breathed, feeling the magic fade and ignored the words the older man stated. ‘I lashed out. I lashed out at Dudley when I found an opening. He was being crueller than usual because of something to do with his recent wrestling match—it had nothing to do with me. I took the quill to him, I didn’t say it was the wisest idea. Frankly sir, the wisest thing I can do is lay back and take it. I retaliated with Dud and with my Uncle, I was angry, I was resentful and I was sick of always not being able to stand up for myself at my relative’s home, when I can stand up for myself in my world.’  
  
‘Were you not doing chores or out on errands if your aunt believed they would do something worse?’ he questioned, Snape sounded disbelieving again.  
  
‘I was in the garden actually, weeding the flowerbed and painting the house again even though I’d already done it the week before. I guess even out there I was in their sights that early in the morning, sir. Besides, I gave them breakfast, they knew I was in the house and there wasn’t anything I would need that early in the morning outside. I told you, they went out for the day. They got their anger out of the way, on me, so they could have a lovely family outing with a few extra shitheads. My cousin used that quill on me too, do you want to see that? Just a little added proof that my forced truths aren’t lies. Show all of you that my home life is much worse than you all thought it was. That I’m not a pampered little brat like Malfoy, that I don’t sit around and have everyone cater to my whims. I’m treated like a house elf, and I didn’t even know that until I went to Hogwarts. I didn’t have a room until was 11, did you know that? They knew that.’ He pointed to his friends. ‘I don’t get fed either but my friends already knew that and they were aware of the verbal abuse and the bars on my window and about being treated like a house elf but they couldn’t stop there, they needed to know everything.' The serum was starting to wear. Harry stood up awkwardly on the seat, Snape’s hands removing themselves from his wrists unconsciously and spun until his forehead was pressing into the topmost part of the armchair—he narrowed his eyes on the twins that had remained behind him and then started to lift his grey shirt even having been topless earlier in the evening, Snape clearly mustn’t have seen the state of Harry’s back before molesting him because as the torn and healed skin was revealed he heard the deep gasp.  
  
He spun back around, dropping his shirt back to his lap. His feet landing right before Snape’s crotch. The man coughed and pushed the legs away, looking wary. Harry let him, his diamond eyes staring at black orbs that were distressed to say the least. It was fascinating to see such an emotion in those dark eyes. He’d never seen such a look on the older man before.  
  
‘You need a Healer. You have had broken, cracked and fractured ribs before from my limited healing magic earlier and you’ve already punctured a lung before. Have you used the same method of healing before or have you been taken to the hospital?’  
  
Harry shrugged, ‘My magic helps me heal. I don’t know if I’ve been taken to a muggle hospital before. If I have I don’t remember and I don’t see why they ever would. I’ve passed out for several hours before but woken up with no real issues breathing…’  
  
‘You aren’t aware if they’ve ever taken you to hospital?’  
  
Harry blinked, ‘I said I don’t know.’  
  
‘Have you ever been ill?’  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘Ever had a bad cold?’  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘I see and have you ever had pneumonia?’  
  
‘I think so?’ he questioned and Snape froze.  
  
‘You aren’t sure?’  
  
‘I remember hearing the word when I was five, through a haze.’  
  
Severus sighed, surprised that Potter’s relatives would allow him to get so ill and then leave him to his own devices instead of taking him to get professional opinions and help.  
‘You have never seen a Doctor, had any medication prescribed to you?’  
  
‘Don’t think so.’ He shook his head.  
  
‘Your relatives never pamper you?’ he frowned.  
  
Harry laughed derisively as he said no.  
  
Severus grunted, ‘Did your relatives even buy you those glasses?’  
  
‘Mmhm’ Harry nodded. ‘They did.’  
  
‘Did they really? They took you see a muggle eye specialist?’ He sounded disbelieving.  
  
Harry laughed again. ‘Of course not. These are bargain bin glasses my aunt bothered to grab when had to take me with her and Dudley shopping when I was seven. Mrs Figg had broken her leg or something, tripping over one of her cats so I couldn’t go there and I certainly couldn’t stay home…Let alone rock up at primary school without glasses after my teachers told them I probably needed them.’  
  
The Professor looked almost furious. ‘Potter. Exactly how well can you see out of those obnoxious glasses of yours?’ He pointed angrily.  
  
‘Uh…I don’t know…You’re clear enough and I do play quidditch…’ He raised an eyebrow asking if that was answer enough.  
  
‘Not answer enough. A lot of quidditch is based on instinct and it’s in front of your face at the time. What about without them?’  
  
‘Oh, I can’t. Basically all I see are blurred coloured shapes.’ Harry shrugged one shouldered and nodded with smirking face. He thought he might understand why Snape looked so annoyed and angry about this.  
  
‘Can you see the board in class?’  
  
‘You mean with my glasses on? Yes. If I’m at least in the second or third row, any further back and I might as not be wearing any.’ This meant that Harry might actually be good at potions, since he was good at cooking, if he could actually read the fucking board or his books properly—he had some issues with that sometimes too.  
  
Snape seemed to sigh in frustration. ‘So in all actuality, Mister Potter, there is not a lick of difference between wearing these pieces of bargain bin rubbish.’ He took the frames from Harry, holding them away from reaching hands and blindly searching eyes. ‘And wearing nothing over your sightless eyes at all? Oh honestly, they aren’t just in poor taste, they’re in poor quality. At least your Father went to a wizarding specialist. You are aware that wearing lenses not suited to your particular prescription, or lack thereof, makes your eyesight worse? Is it any wonder you’re having trouble in your classes?’ He shook his ebony head, or Harry assumed the blurred shape did and then he assumed that thing was the man’s finger being held up to tell him to wait a moment, presumably, and then, miraculously, after no more than a few seconds of nothing something glinting appeared in Snape’s hands only to be then similarly shoved a top Harry’s nose with a prompt and satisfied, ‘There.’  
  
The raven frown. He wasn’t that bad in his classes, was he? He was exceptional at DADA. He blinked, several times as everything seemed to come into actual clear focus. The clarity of these lenses were amazing. He’d thought his glasses were clear before; these were friggen amazing! Everything was in vivid colour even though the house was in dark dull greys and mouldering greens. There were no slight blurs as he turned his head and no dizziness to speak of that he’d been living with for months now but hadn’t bothered to mention to anyone. He could see everyone’s expressions in depth—he looked away.  
  
Snape was pointedly staring at him, holding a fancy silver case that appeared to have his initials printed on it, distractedly putting Harry’s shit specs inside. Harry touched the frames. Wire, and jerked at the smooth, cool and metal feel but they weren’t rounded, at least, not entirely. Just the edge at the bottom of the lenses. The man’s pale face waited for Harry to focus solely on his pallid features that were lined with at least a few aging lines but till handsome.  
  
Harry was curious if this was a bout of caring or if this was just to fix Harry’s educational view. His head tilted as he thought about it. ‘I do read Mister Potter. I happen to have been in possession of reading glasses since my sixteenth birthday after a little mishap was played on me by your Father. Though I do only read with them in my quarters as I am sure it detracts from the viewpoint of the students. Now, as I do happen to have a second pair, you may take these ones.’ Harry could have easily reached forward to strangle the man kneeling before him when the next words left the thin mouth. ‘I hope you do not believe that the interrogation is finished, Potter. It isn’t. I merely thought that needed to be dealt with promptly.’ He fell back into the armchair in response, hunching his shoulders and dropping his hand into his lap after actually rising to strangle Snape, and then he waited, because there wasn’t anything Harry could do about it—the veritaserum was still in his system.  
  
‘Now, when is your birthday Mister Potter?’  
  
Harry almost blanched at the abrupt re-start to the questions and because didn’t everyone when Harry’s birthday was? It wasn’t a secret. It was splashed everywhere. He was almost certain that you could literally ask anyone and they would be able to tell you the correct date, the correct day, the correct year and probably the correct fucking time he was born too.  
  
‘July 31st, 1980.’ He said anyway.  
  
‘Then that would now make you sixteen, would it not?’  
  
‘Obviously.’ He snarked. What did his birthday have to do with anything? He stared at his Professor like he was suddenly delusional, especially when it started to sound like the questioning was going backwards.  
  
‘Your parents are Lily and James Potter?’  
  
From what he clearly knew of, ‘Yes.’ He adamantly said. Come on, seriously? Was everyone in the know about who his parents were? The man even knew who his parents were, he was constantly degrading Harry’s Father. This was so stupid and so pointless now. He even said so.  
  
‘I am asking for a reason Potter.’ ‘Are you aware of any…Inheritances you might possess, been told anything before from the Mutt? Receive any suspicious envelopes on your birthday perhaps?’  
  
Harry sighed, rubbing at his skull. ‘What?’ He swallowed ‘No?’ He blinked. ‘Several…’ He got strange mail every year on his birthday.  
  
‘Very well…Did you receive anything from Gringotts this year perhaps?’  
  
Harry’s brow drew down. Gringotts? ‘No?’ He questioned. He didn’t understand where this line of questioning was supposed to be going but he jumped off the armchair when Snape barked and looked satisfied.  
  
‘There was the questioning No I was looking for. Thank you, Potter, now do you have your birthday letters with you, in your trunk, are they?’ He angled his head at said trunk now beside the fireplace and closest to Ron and Hermione who were huddled in the corner sofa. Strange how the trunk seemed to move on its own—it hadn’t been there before.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
‘Excellent. One of you grab them please.’ He pointed to Ron and Hermione and they turned to Harry himself as if asking for permission to enter his private trunk. Why ask now? He even voiced it. They’d already betrayed him, he shrugged with his words. They looked upset and hesitant before Snape snapped. Ron stepped forward and rummaged inside until he found the stack of envelopes they were apparently searching for tied with some twine Harry’d found in the downstairs hallway desk. ‘Bring the Gringotts one here Mister Weasley.’  
  
‘But how do you—’ he started.  
  
‘A hunch. Now, Mister Weasley.’ He inclined his head downward and Ron quickly shuffled through the envelopes. Most of them were unopened and a few of them finger-printed red. Those ones were clearly the ones intending to be read by Harry and hence had been covered with Harry’s bloodied fingertips. Oops. An obviously cautious job being made to avoid the blood, Ron quickly found the right envelope or envelopes rather and shuffled his way over to them, handing them down to the man looking extremely confused—that covered Harry’s mood, and then went back to Hermione.  
  
Snape shuffled them, as instead of one or two there was four missives. His eyes were fixed on Harry who just blinked back in total befuddlement, waiting to hear where this was all going. ‘How interesting.’ He slashed the top of one with a flick of his finger and pulled out the crisp parchment within, proudly stamped by the Goblin Bank and Harry’s personal banking advisor, well, his parents’ who had been transferred to him though he hadn’t known that. His head was angled forward to try to see the words. ‘Dear Mister Potter…Blah, blah, blah…unimportant…AH!’ Harry jumped, starting to get peeved for the further deductions of privacy. This was his mail, thank you. His foot tap coincidently just underneath Snape’s left knee.  
  
He grew more agitated about it when Snape cryptically started to mutter below his breath, placed the envelope on the floor and then started through the others. He then spoke up to Harry, ‘I do believe Potter that a further problem has been solved though, with it brings more issues I’m afraid. You are stuck like this, indefinitely.’ He waved to all of him. ‘As you appear to have gained a rather unusual inheritance from your family.’  
  
‘Pardon?’ Harry blinked, suddenly polite.  
  
‘An inheritance—please tell me that you have actually heard of the word before, at the very least?’ He stared, sighed out a breath and continued explaining at Harry’s blank stare. Whether Harry had actually heard of it or not. ‘An inheritance, Potter, is something you inherit, usually something passed down through your family. Say, an old family heirloom, or…Estates and money. Normally you would get these with the passing of said family member that owned it—parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, perhaps even from someone in the branch family and even from Godparents if they were so inclined to hand something to you, otherwise you would receive an inheritance on your 17th birthday that would be a sum of money, if they wanted to give it to you.’  
  
‘You’ve already received your inheritance from your parents, upon their death, which is your Vault of money in the wizarding bank. I’m sure it would have been more had you actually reached the maturity with them alive…’ He took a breath. ‘However, in your special case Potter, you have taken your inheritance from what appears to be your Father’s Uncle. I am assuming anyway, as I do not believe I ever saw this on either of your parents, your paternal or maternal grandparents, and I met both at some point or another.  
I am of course also assuming the inheritance is from your Great Uncle because he for one, has this little quirk of yours and for another his appearance, in the general sense of the word, his similar to your grandfather.’ He held up a small moving picture, rumpled on one side and slightly burnt on the other as if someone had tried to dispose of it.  
It was an awkward gathering of strangers. The was an elderly couple followed by a slightly younger couple that held the shoulder of what could only be Harry’s dad in his young childhood years, sometime when he’d just started Hogwarts and what appeared to be a young Sirius Black. And there was the man, slightly younger in the face than Harry’s paternal grandfather, tanned with deep blue eyes that reflected the sky and smiling—he looked like a kind man but he did look guilty as he seemed to chuckle cautiously at the cameraman or woman as he waved at the lens; it was like he was being reprimanded for ruining the family shot somehow or something, he started to pat down his chestnut ears and brush his similarly toned tail behind him.  
  
‘My Father had an uncle?’ he mumbled. Then he stared, blinking in astonishment. ‘Who’s that?’ he pointed to the foreground of the photo where the people inside had suddenly started and begun to chuckle, pointing. A small girl with a yellow flower dress had come zipping across the picture, her ginger hair flying out behind her, pale face illuminated by the sun and her similarly coloured ears and tails, plural, doing the same as she chased after something that flew across the grounds before her—faster.  
Surely if Harry had other relatives wouldn’t he have gone to them first, after he wasn’t able to go to Sirius because of circumstances? Surely they would have been marked down in a will? Harry didn’t believe his Mother would have ever wanted him to go to her sister… Could they have fallen out maybe, maybe that was why he knew nothing, why they hadn’t been named guardians? The young girl looked no more than seven in this photo.  
  
Snape turned the photo back around, beginning to frown. ‘I’m sure I’ve no clue, I have neither seen the cat-tailed man or the cat-tailed girl who appears to possess two—which is interesting. I don’t believe I ever saw her at Hogwarts, I would hardly miss that.’ He stared at Harry intensely then and Harry stared back with a frown. The way the man said this and the way he held the picture away from Harry as he tried to grab it, instead of giving it to him, as you know it actually was Harry’s property, really churned Harry’s butter. He watched then as Remus strode forward as if summoned, with a purpose and leaned over Snape’s head, amber eyes searching and just as intensely he said, ‘Well, that’s one’s clearly Sirius—he was probably there for a sleep over or something, they did have those an awful lot; he was practically part of the family when he turned sixteen and ran away from here.’ He waved around.  
  
‘I didn’t mean him, I can see that.’ Harry grouched. ‘I meant the little girl Remus. But if you know who the man is too then by all means, please tell me.’ He laid the sarcasm on thick as he pointed at the photo and the replaying scene—however this time, it shifted slightly, just slightly and the little girl froze mid-run. Her blue eyes were glinting almost like they were looking at Harry, but were in actuality probably just staring at the person taking the photograph—the photo had been angled so Harry could see it.  
  
She laughed and then sped back across the scene. But then, maybe she had been staring at him? He wondered who she was, and who was behind the camera? ‘Oh…I’ve no idea, I’ve never seen her before either…’ Remus frowned and took up the letters beside Snape’s knee, reading through them similarly and having similar reactions. This made Harry fume. Were they serious? He thought, staring in disbelief at his former DADA Teacher. He almost hissed, almost. The werewolf was doing it seemingly unconsciously but he was clearly not saying the obvious as well.  
  
Sirius would have known. Sirius would have probably known about all of this.  
  
Harry fumed further, watching, waiting, claws so deep into the armrests he was unsure if he’d be able to unhook them from the fabric and springs beneath. He was getting ready to finally snap, his eyes sparking dark emerald when his whole body suddenly jerked in place; everything paused, frozen around him, his breaths puffed out in sharp painful gasps as he wheezed out a fuck, shifting against the chair, trying to frantically pull his fingers free to push himself clear of the cushion beneath him. ‘OW!’ He yelped, voice driving up an octave, body trying to get as far away from contact with the chair as possible. ‘OW!’ He became more frantic and panicked, trying to release his hands, jerking them free with sharpness, when finally he was able, foam flew, a bit of blood flew, getting stuck in Snape’s straight ebony hair.  
  
He grimaced, staring at Harry in confusion, as all of them were. There was concern mixed in as Harry whimpered, throwing himself from the chair enough that only his feet remained to the seat cushion, he turned and grasped the back, eyes screwing shut and screamed, nowhere else to go.  
  
‘Potter!?’  
  
‘Harry?!’  
  
‘Cub?!’  
  
‘Mate?!’  
  
‘Harry?!’  
  
‘Harry?!’  
  
There were a lot of shouts but Harry barely heard them, barely acknowledged that they were shouting for him in frightened tones. He merely continued screaming, feet stamping on the armchair, rocking it back and forwards as tears slid from his eyes and dripped to the fabric, until finally, his legs gave out with a weird sploshing sound that echoed. There was a wetness that coated his backside now, he shuddered, heaving and shivering as he felt something touching him, something new, something foreign but something wet and familiar.

‘Interesting…’ Harry could hear the intrigue in the word, his eyes still closed. ‘Perhaps it did not come from your great uncle after all, but this mysterious chestnut-haired girl with the two tails. I’m unsure how that is possible however…’ His tone didn’t change and he didn’t move from where he had quickly shifted backwards from Harry’s flailing claws earlier. Harry inhaled and exhaled heavily, shuddering again as he let his hand drop from his face to grab at the wet chestnut-y tail. It was winding around his first tail so he held it a little apart from him—it was covered in blood and something that was oddly mucus-like.  
  
His whisper was a broken one as he blinked down at it owlishly, ‘Two?’ his breaths were shallow as well, his mouth bone dry that he couldn’t help but swallow thickly and lick equally dry lips. He didn’t understand, how could this be possible? He couldn’t get something like this from a relative that wasn’t directly blood related, could he? It was a blood thing, right? A gene thing? This didn’t make any sense, his parents were Lily and James Potter, neither of them had this gene but these possible branch family members did, what was this supposed to mean? Was he not a direct Potter? Were James and Lily not his parents? He started to hyperventilate, dropping himself back down to the chair, spinning so his feet ended up smacking the older man’s knees. He didn’t hear the grunt, or feel them pushed away with a scowl. He was staring down at the tail in horror, his fingers sporadically clenching and unclenching the new addition.

‘Calm down…’  
  
Harry wanted this to stop, he really wanted this to stop now. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the feeling that he was wrong, that maybe his parents weren’t who he thought, who everyone thought. He shivered, eyes wide, chest heaving. There had to be proof right, somewhere? In the Ministry archives, in the family vault or something? The person that delivered him had to know who his parents were right, who’d delivered him? Who did that, who could they have trusted to do that, or did they Obliviate that person, or ask them for an unbreakable vow? Fuck.  
  
He had believed it when the man had asked who his parents were, so the serum had stated the truth to Snape but he wasn’t sure now, so, would he be unsure in his answer or would it simply release the truth?  
  
This didn’t make any sense!  
  
He released his tail in order to grab his hair in horror and shock, frustration and anxiety. Snape’s seemingly calm and calculating exterior wasn’t helping Harry’s current temperament. ‘I don’t understand…’ He shook his pitch hair, frantic then something tapped him on the cheek and he stared unblinking, head angled to his knees.  
‘Calm down and clean that.’ It had been Snape to speak but it had been one of the twins to tap him with a clean towel. Harry took, his breath still heavy as he huffed through his nose, wincing as the chestnut tail slightly swayed and twitched under the ministration. His eyes went up when he saw movement and narrowed immediately on Remus who quietly took the odd Potter family photograph + one Black and placed it into an empty frame on the fireplace mantel—he left the letter back by Snape’s knees.  
  
Harry blinked under his lashes, well he would have liked to have been asked if he wanted that there or if he’d prefer it go in his personal photo album with the rest of his memories. Which is where he wished to place it, for further inspections in private.  
  
And maybe a little breakdown…  
  
His voice was quiet when he spoke, ‘How could I even have an inheritance like this? What did they do sleep with a cat in their previous lives?!’ it was admittedly a bit screeched though as he released his tail and threw the blooded cloth to ground in a show of pique.  
  
The Potions Master snorted. ‘I do not believe that would have been appropriate however it might have been something similar—an Animagus perhaps and another, then with a little help from some rather unusual magic, the female probably gave birth to something in-between.’  
  
‘You don’t say…’ Harry huffed.  
  
‘You might even be an Animagus now Harry…’ Harry’s eyes spun from Remus edging his way back over to Tonks to Hermione who had tentatively spoken. He lot a growl instinctively as the letters were now moved away from Snape with a little magic at the tip of said man’s wand and placed beside the photo on the mantel in his peripheral. He would have liked to have read those too, thank you.  
  
No one did anything. Why did no one seem to understand why they would be growled at?  
  
‘Oh yippy because I wasn’t already attempting to do that in my spare time.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t care Hermione, what I care about is finding out why I suddenly sprouted feline attributes weeks after my birthday, why my parents didn’t have said attributes themselves, why someone from my Father’s side clearly did and why after immediately seeing that little redheaded girl I sprouted another fucking tail. I want to know why my Godfather never thought to mention anything when he was alive, I want to know who this supposed Great Uncle is, I want to know who the little girl was, or is, I want to know who the fuck my family is and above all, I want know why I suddenly feel like my parents weren’t entirely my parents!’ He started to scream, his eyes watering.  
  
‘And above, above everything else, I want to know why you all though that this was such a fucking brilliant idea?! You were supposed to be my friends, people I trusted, people I loved. I am not going to fucking trust you again!!’  
  
‘…Uh…’ She blinked and swallowed. ‘Genes can skip generations Harry…’  
  
‘Do they?’ Harry ground at Hermione, uncaring that she was on the verge of tears, his teeth ground so tightly together that the words barely made it passed his lips. His tails sporadically twitched and bristled, twitched and bristled under his frustration and anger, flicking over his knees.  
  
‘Ahem, for now, enough. You can find out later, this is settled. The questions are not over yet Mister Potter.’ Snape didn’t even sound like it was settled and Harry damn well knew it fucking wasn’t.  
  
He hissed looking directly into Snape’s dark and though forbidding eyes they were laced with their own confusion and calculating. ‘Settled? It’s settled?’ Snape’s eyes stared at the darkened diamond green eyes with wariness. ‘Are you kidding me? it isn’t fucking settled, there are way more questions now that I’ve found this shit out and the questions you were asking, I don’t care about. They aren’t important, this is important now. I want to know the truth, oh, I get you all want to know the truth and I fucking gave it to you, it was forced from me, I don’t care one lick about your stupid probing insensitive down right privacy deducting questions anymore!’ he started screaming and pulling at his ears, allowing his tails to lash outwards at Snape all they liked; the man flinched, his dark eyes moving to keep the tails in view.  
  
‘And don’t even get me fucking started on how fucking pissed I really am either—that hasn’t changed in fact I’m even more pissed off at all of you because you just went through my personal mail for this shit’ he pointed ‘the both of you and neither of you fucking bothered to give them to me to read, the owner of said mail.’ His jaw snapped shut with his sharp teeth gnashing as he worked himself up. How much longer did this veritaserum last anyways? Did Snape modify it and how much did he? Or had time simply slowed down for this torture? It was like time when time moved slowly as he’d had to write with an illegal blood quill and inked “I must not tell lies” into his own hand over and over and over again for an hour, and he hadn’t even been telling any fucking lies.  
  
Fucking Umbitch!  
  
Harry growled, head falling back into the armchair upholstery when Snape’s voice penetrated his eardrums. ‘There isn’t much else we can find out at this point Potter. The letters merely only stated that you were a million galleons rich with some pretty old timeless properties, including this dark place.’ He looked around briefly. ‘One of the letters was to state what was stipulated in Sirius Black’s Will. He took you as an heir, Potter, as for the other it merely stated you had become old enough to inherit your Family Vaults—clearly it was stated that if you got this inheritance you were now old enough to by-pass the Ministries laws of having to be 17 to access them. That does not apply to using magic, you are still underage there.’ He frowned deeply, as if wary that Harry was heading down that road of thinking.  
  
Harry frowned, not really understanding. ‘…What?’  
  
Snape sighed, head falling to the side briefly. ‘You will have to settle on searching through your family vaults for anything related to your unusual semi-human inheritance—perhaps you will find clues about what you want to know; however, for the time being that is simply not doable.’  
  
Harry shook his head, mouth falling open and letting out little sound as his eyes closed. ‘No, what did you just say about Sirius? He made me his Heir?’  
  
Severus gave Harry a look that clearly said, “That, is the only thing you heard?” but he nodded and simply said, ‘Yes, you are the unfortunately proud owner of Headquarters Potter, congratulations.’  
  
Harry opened his eyes. ‘But I, I didn’t know. I didn’t sign anything; how can I be Sirius’ heir without knowing that I was Sirius heir? Wait, hold up, does that mean I’m a Black now too, do I have access to the Black Vault?’ his voice was breathless.  
  
Snape nodded, ‘It would appear that way, as that would be the only way. There are ways to do it, that wouldn’t require your immediate knowledge about it. He could have simply shown you some papers without telling you what they were and you were probably all to glad to sign them with your name.’  
  
Harry’s eyes sparked, going back to the part about having access to his own family’s vault. ‘IF they were Potter’s, there would have to be records, photos, items, books, journals, anything from them, right? Portraits maybe? There would have to be something, right?’ His voice grew excited. ‘I could find clues, they might still be alive, that girl was barely any younger than my Father…’ He licked his lips.  
  
‘I have already stated Potter that going to Gringotts is out of the question right now.’ Harry glared at Snape, tails swishing, the fine hairs on his ears bristling. ‘You also have to think, why didn’t your Mutt tell anyone?’  
  
Harry’s eyes darkened, ‘Maybe Sirius was sworn to secrecy. He like family to the Potter’s, he said so himself and Remus just said before. They trusted him but if for some reason it was supposed to be kept a secret, they would make him swear…Besides, I wasn’t born with these.’ He touched them.  
  
‘No, you weren’t, were you?’  
  
Harry blinked, uncomprehending that. Odd.  
  
‘It does all seem rather suspicious; however, I will repeat it only once more. You cannot go to Gringotts at this point in time, it is far too dangerous. Dumbledore has expressed you stay at Headquarters and as you look like this. I quite agree.’ He huffed. ‘Now, back to the questions, there are others I would like to ask in relation to your relatives.’ Funny, how he’d stated this a few times now and hadn’t simply ignored Harry. Harry pondered around for a way out, he’d distracted, they’d diverged for a good 20 minutes or so, it must have been an hour passed surely? He knew the veritaserum was weaker…He needed to find another distraction…  
  
Ah!  
  
‘Hey, Professor’ he licked his lips, voice gone soft. ‘How, how do you think I could keep these so soft? So smooth, so touchable?’  
  
//r//  
  
‘I beg your pardon?’ He frowned. The raven-black haired teen repeated himself to be heard though that wasn’t to say Severus hadn’t heard the odd question and rubbed one hand almost lazily and somehow seductively across both his own feline ears, mewling lowly, and passed them across his tails. This time he moaned as if making some point though Severus was unsure what that point was. He cleared his throat, eyes unable to stop following the movements. They both ignored as several people in the room started to shift uncomfortably—both Severus and the whelp had turned red-faced.  
  
It had to be a ploy.  
  
‘I do not know, brush them perhaps?’ He questioned, eyes not leaving the stroking hands or ears diverging from the small whispered sounds that emerged the teens barely parted lips. He swallow inaudibly. His hand even snaked out without conscious thought, reaching forward.  
  
The brat’s hands flew to his hair, looking indignant. ‘My hair is not that bad! Besides, I do brush it thank you!’  
  
‘Of course and that is why it always looks like you just woke up or have had a family of birds nesting in the strands.’ Or just had sex.  
  
‘I do brush it.’ The boy growled, glaring daggers.  
  
‘Well then’ Severus inclined his head, ‘Then why don’t you ask Minerva, that is Professor McGonagall.’ He put stress on the title. He was grateful she had returned hours ago to Hogwarts. ‘As she is a feline animagi, she would have this advice, I am sure, after all, her fur is…sof…t.’  
  
//r//  
  
It appeared to Harry that Snape hadn’t quite wanted to express that, the words quickly puttering to a stop as he snapped his mouth shut. Harry’s eyebrows rose, a small quirk coming to his lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.  
  
Oh ho.  
  
Well now, that’s interesting…Professor.  
  
‘Is that right, sir, and how would you that her “fur” is nice and soft?’  
  
Snape’s voice became nothing, he said nothing and even snatched the hand back from where it had no doubt been about to reach for Harry’s lightly swaying furry tails. His fists clenched on his bent knees, away from such, temptation and seductive coaxing. Harry was almost positive now that he had some “charm” hovering of Snape with these new additions of his. He was unsure what exactly but he knew it was definitely there and it wasn’t because Snape might have a liking for small animals, which would be weird, even weirder considering Harry wasn’t in fact a small helpless animal or an animal at all in the traditional sense of the word but it was interesting to know Snape had such…weird and tempting weaknesses. Hell, Harry even had one thing over on the older man already. Snape had molested him several times now and that was definitely frowned on when you’re student and teacher, even worse when said student was the chosen one.  
  
Harry doubted Dumbledore would like that knowledge very much…  
  
Though…He had no idea how to voice that and take advantage of it. He stared, fascinated, almost entirely forgetting that he was royally pissed with everyone, again. It was when the man shook himself and said ‘Enough’, again, standing to his feet with a slight groan and dusting off his knees of invisible dust, turning to the fireplace that Harry snapped right back into reality.  
  
//r//  
  
‘We need to return to the matter had hand Potter and that is right now. I have allowed myself to be distracted, I will not anymore. It is important that we continue, however, I do believe now that something else is a bit more important than my questions…seeing you occasionally twitch and whimper under your breath, your breath also. You need to be checked by a Healer first, be that someone from St. Mungo’s or be that someone you know like Madam Pomfrey…Which ever you prefer?’ He waved a hand.  
  
You’re giving me a choice? Harry thought. ‘I don’t prefer either.’ Harry went to stand too, now that he was no longer being bared but was pushed immediately back into the upholstery by two large hands on his shoulder blades—heavy and sturdy. Snape was fast. They remained there, he stared at them a moment before levelling his head up to look at the person they were attached too. He glared at the determined pallid features then sighed.  
  
‘I did say you were getting a healer, you do not have a choice in that matter Potter so if you do not tell me which you prefer, I will merely call Madam Pomfrey from her duties at Hogwarts.’ The widening of Harry’s eyes probably told the older man all he needed to know as he moved back to the fireplace and Fred and George stepped forward to replace him—his hand moved to the pot.  
  
‘What—what are you doing?’ Harry swallowed nervously, feeling sweat start to bead on his forehead beneath his fringe. He was fine, honest, he didn’t need a Healer or Medi, he certainly didn’t need Madam Pomfrey. He didn’t need anyone telling him he wasn’t, thank you very much. He could breathe just fine, and he wasn’t in pain…the twitching was just…the breathing was just…He really didn’t want Madam Pomfrey to Mother-hen him and push him into a bed with straps around his ankles and wrists to keep him there; again.  
  
It had happened before because he refused to stay in the infirmary. No. It wasn’t again.  
  
‘I am making a call.’ He didn’t turn around with the “obviously” that was implied in his tone. He merely threw the green powder into the hearth and watched as the golden flames turned bright green. He placed his hand on the mantel to keep himself steady, presumably, and leant down to the roaring flames. You could do that? Harry blinked, well, you learnt something every day. He’d always thought you had to shove your head into the flames to make a Floo call… ‘I require your assistance, Madam Pomfrey.’  
  
‘No, no it’s not an emergency per sae; however, I do need your assistance immediately, if you can spare it?’  
  
Harry watched, mortified, horrified as Snape continued to speak into the jumping emerald flames. Odd how Harry wasn’t hearing a word from the Matron though…  
  
‘No, no I am fine, yes of course.’ Had Snape cast some sort of spell to block it? ‘Harry Potter, Madam Pomfrey, oh yes, I do completely agree.’ Harry began to whimper, lowly, unconsciously throwing his head back against the headrest again with every second word out of the asshole’s mouth. FUCK! ‘Ah well, yes, he’s fine in a manner of speaking, no, no, nothing…particularly serious anymore probably but I’m afraid it’s more something you would have expertise in, you are a Healer after all, so could you spare the time right now? Ah, thank you.’ Harry’s mind flickered for a brief moment over Snape’s asking the matron to come to headquarters but then remembered that the Healer had been here before.

  
The fire flared an end to the conversation then sputtered back to life—hurriedly stepping back Snape stood clear as Harry resolutely closed his eyes and bit his tongue against seeing the witch emerge from the fireplace—he heard her though, ‘Ah’ dusting her apron and speaking with Snape and various others. ‘It’s wonderful to see you so soon Severus, everyone, well, I suppose not exactly wonderful, it’s never wonderful to be called to work. Now what’s this about Harry now?’ She paused a moment as if her eyes had locked on the person in question. ‘I’ve never been called to attend him outside the castle before…I’m interested what could possibly be so horrible that you had to call me?’  
Snape said nothing, no one did.

He did however incline his head at the armchair and the boy in question looking completely defeated inside it. Oh Potter, he thought. Then he spoke lowly, ‘It is a somewhat sensitive issue, I do recommend that you examine the brat though, much as he does try and convince you otherwise Madam Pomfrey; ignore it.’  
  
Poppy blinked, frowned a moment then spun to completely face Harry. She kneeled to look him in the face as she came forward—Harry’s head was lowered against his collarbone. She pressed a hand to his clenching fist. ‘Harry?’ She questioned, her voice soft and gentle.  
  
Oh fuck, he thought. She’d gone down that route. Well fuck, now he felt trapped. Well and truly and utterly chained to this room, to these people to this blasted fucking chair. He started to silently curse them all again. Poppy’s wand fell into her fingers, falling straight out of her matronly sleeve. Harry watched this from beneath his lashes, green eyes misting with agitation, betrayal, frustration and angered sadness. He was fine. Fine. Why couldn’t they just leave him at “Fine”? Why did no one ever listen to him?! What were the words that came out of his mouth, were they silent? He almost screamed, asking them but he didn’t. He didn’t want to frighten anyone, he didn’t want them to hear his crying screams or make Madam Pomfrey deaf because she was right in front him. He did like her, just, he didn’t need or want her right now. Temporary fix or not, he definitely well alright, a bit tender sure, but he was fine.

Pomfrey hummed and tsk’d and tutted and inevitably gasped as her wand started to emit a warbling glow. Hang on, she hadn’t said anything about his look wasn’t that a bit strange? He frowned a second as the thought came to him. He had no idea what the glow meant but with her sudden screech of ‘WHAT ON MERLIN’S GREEN EARTH, MISTER POTTER?!’ and his consequent flinch away from her, unable to help himself promptly covering his ears and shuddering as her screech continued to resonate through them, he assumed it wasn't a good glow.  
  
He’d not yelled in her face, the least she could have done was do the same, right?  
  
‘Up, now, we need to fix this, right now, where’s your room. Show me.’  
Harry blinked up, finally, as she stood. He remained steadfastly attached to the armchair, his hands, lowering again immediately clung onto the sides, sinking back into the premade claw marks. She tried to remove them herself, remove him forcefully from the chair, which he thought was rather rude, and he frowned at immediately but alas his nails kept him firmly rooted to the seat, with a shit tonne of fucking determination mixed in. He was not going anywhere, he was not going anywhere with her. No. Fucking. Way.  
  
He almost swore at her to fuck off.  
  
‘Potter I gave you a choice. Now, live with the consequences again of not answering it.’  
  
‘You suck at choices.’ He hissed between clenched canines.  
  
‘Hm’ He huffed. ‘Go with Madam Pomfrey now. You won’t hurt as much if you do.’ Harry shook his head, green eyes intense as they stared at the black glaring down at him over the Matron’s shoulders. ‘Your actions have belied you Potter. They have shown that you are in pain and in fact need medical attention, even if you yourself do not believe you are.’  
  
‘No.’ He spat the one word out, shaking his head with determination. He turned to Madam Pomfrey as he heard the two exhales of frustration. He addressed her in what he hoped was an authoritative voice. ‘I’m sorry Madam Pomfrey, probably, more than likely, at a later date, but no.’ He continued to shake his head.  
  
‘Is it not better for a female to check you than a male, Potter, or would you prefer the same gender, even under the circumstances?’ Harry’s eyes narrowed after he saw the odd questioning glance of the Matron.  
  
‘None. I said I prefer neither, sir. I am fine. I am perfecting fucking FINE. Will, you, let, it, go!’ he couldn’t take this anymore, shouting at the older man. No. Seeker-honed reflexed and an inward apology to the Hogwarts nurse for being pulled into this increasingly frustrating betrayal of trust—he pushed her away from him and ran for it. He didn’t stop and he thanked the twins as they skirted quickly to the side—conveniently forgetting that they had been able to use magic for the two years legally and could have easily stopped him, and that’s not even touching on their strength that probably could have easily done it. Maybe they were feeling increasingly guilty about their part in all of this—he skidded past them, running up the stairs.  
  
His ears picked up the annoyed growl from the Professor and the twins dressing down for letting “the brat” pass. He heard their shrugging apologies but could almost hear them smiling behind their hands as they inevitably turned away from the angry man. He jumped up the stairs nimbly, two, four steps at a time and slammed the door to his shared bedroom.  
  
The door resounded with an echoing BANG.  
  
He took shuddering breaths, leaning heavily on the door. He was shaking, badly. From fear, or guilt or maybe something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. He really did feel fine though, sure, there was some aches and his arse was killing him from the tail emerging earlier and okay he could hear that wheeze the Professor was getting at as he breathed but he was fine.  
  
‘POTTER, GET BACK HERE NOW!’  
  
‘YOUNG MAN THAT WAS UNCALLED FOR, YOU COME BACK HERE AND APOLOGISE!’  
  
‘HARRY THAT WAS HORRIBLE!’  
  
Gees they were acting like he’d done something worse than push her.  
  
‘MATE, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!’  
  
Fuck, Harry drew up his arms and did his best to cover his ears.  
  
‘HARRY, COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT, CUB, YOU NEED TO APOLOGISE!’  
  
Funny, how none of them were coming up the stairs to get him forcefully.  
  
‘HARRY POTTER, COME DOWN HERE, NOW.’  
  
Fuck, had that been Snape’s voice twice just now and both increasingly pissed off? Still shuddering Harry stepped away from the door, ran over to the wardrobe and started to haul the bulky furniture over to the door—it left a lighter space where it had been but Harry shrugged it aside, it would do well, he hoped, to stop them from getting inside, since he couldn’t use magic to lock the door even in a practically non-existent house such as Grimmauld Place. He really dearly hoped it was enough of a barricade as he heard dozens of heavy footsteps finally making their way up the stairs.  
  
So he was pretty sure he probably hadn’t just pushed the nurse now…His nails were, not that he wasn’t focused on anything, were slightly stinging like he had used them.  
‘Potter this is not funny. Open this door, this instant.’   
  
BANG.   
  
BANG.  
  
There was a spell thrown at the door but nothing happened. Did he sound like he thought it was funny? He backed himself into the corner of the room, sliding down the wall as despite knowing who was outside, images of another time started to assault him—travelling back in time without his consent. No…no…  
  
Snape’s voice suddenly was sounding an awful lot like Vernon’s when he was really angry and he was going for a way to let it out—the way he banged on the door like that and shouted at the wood…Harry distanced himself, or he tried too, really, he did, as he found himself cowering in the corner of the room as they tried to smash their way in; magic, boots, hands, the lot. He held his tails protectively between his bent-up knees and chest and tried to flatten his ears further against his messy head so he didn’t hear anything. He found it futile though… He didn’t like those sounds, he really didn’t—the smashing, the bashing, the yelling. He could hear them all and hear a part of the wooden door splitting open from the strain of so many spells, so many booted feet and fists.  
  
He was becoming increasingly frightened, despite everything. No matter how hard he tried not to be, no matter how hard he tried to block the sounds, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that he was safe here, that they wouldn’t hurt him. But he wasn’t sure what they would do when they got to him. He certainly didn’t know what Snape would do, he knew though that it couldn’t be as bad as his Uncle or his Cousin but he believed it might still be something bad---and the more he delved unwilling into the memories the more his mind distanced him from the knowledge that he was at Headquarters, that they weren’t his relatives. He started to believe he hadn’t left Privet Drive, that his Uncle and Cousin were the ones slamming at his door, trying to break in, that they were going to hurt him.  
  
Deep down he knew…He did…He knew that he was at Headquarters, he knew they weren’t his relatives he knew they probably wouldn’t hurt him but he couldn’t be sure about Snape—the man had been a Death Eater after all, the man knew torture, the man knew cruelty. Wait, did Harry believe Snape wasn’t still, that he really was some sort of spy for Dumbledore, what if he was a double agent? Dumbledore wouldn’t allow Snape into Grimmauld Place if he didn’t trust him completely, right?  
  
But, the old man was old, he could be going senile?  
  
Harry curled tighter in on himself and tried harder, harder to close out the noises on the other side of the bending door.  
‘POTTER, SO HELP ME!’ It was not actually a shout but it may as well have been as it caused Harry to practically leap, dragging his back against the rough wall.  
He winced.  
  
//r//  
  
‘HARRY JAMES POTTER!’  
  
BANG.  
  
Oh.  
  
The door bowed inward twice more before they finally blew it off its hinges. The wood flew everywhere, from both wooden surfaces; far across the room it flew to where Harry cowered in the corner. He flinched, twice; as they forced their way in around the splintered wood and as a piece of it flew at him and sliced across his soft cheek. The blood travelled down his tear-tracked skin. He was trembling, eyes tightly screwed shut, mind telling him that he could hear his Uncle’s heavy footsteps coming toward him.  
  
‘Now, Potter, enough. Enough, just…Enough. Do you understand me? You are sixteen years old, grow up. You are hurt, these people care for you and want to see you healthy, they want to see you unhurt. They want you to be better and you need to have some look at you for that to happen—you do not push over that help, especially someone you owe a great deal too. Poppy does not deserve to be treated the way you just treated her. She had cared for you since you entered Hogwarts, accident prone that you are, and trouble-seeking she has patched you up more times than you or I would care to count when you were stupid and threatened your own life doing reckless things. She cares a great deal about you more than any other student she cares for all year. You should not have even thought the idea of pushing her over or SCRATCHING her, was a good one. Go downstairs, now, and apologise to Madam Pomfrey.’  
  
Harry bit his lip as Snape towered over him, his voice deep and cutting into the illusion. His eyes opened wide to stare. He was still a menacing figure with his black eyes sparking in clear anger---though for what purpose that truly was, was anyone’s guess.  
  
Harry was still shivering though.  
  
‘Go apologise to Madam Pomfrey, cub, please.’  
  
Harry felt like he’d been physically hit when he heard his honorary Godfather’s words. He hadn’t wanted to hurt the witch, he liked Poppy…when she wasn’t Mothering him or keeping him locked up in the infirmary when he wanted to be elsewhere. He knew he owed a great deal to the matron and one day he’d be sure to repay her for always keeping him in one piece after his misadventures. He was sorry, okay, truly, but right now he just couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t apologise because he didn’t want things to be resolved, he didn’t want things to go back to earlier, he didn’t want to be examined. He didn’t want to be fixed when he was perfectly fine. He didn’t her anywhere near him, he didn’t want anyone anywhere near him.  
  
He clenched his hands around his knees, around his agitated tails. He felt a phantom feeling of pliable skin under his nails and quick low-pitched yell echo in his flattened ears—this made him feel guiltier, why wouldn’t it, he hadn’t intended to hurt her like that, he just wanted his freedom.  
  
But he couldn’t apologise.  
  
‘Now, Potter…’ A large hand came down and when Harry physically shied away from it, hesitating only a pause, it flew down and with a brief grunt when Harry blindly, frantically lashed out, it pulled him forcefully to his feet by his wrist—the hand dragged him all the way to the doorway, manoeuvring him around the furniture and door and into the hallway. Clasped tightly and trying to get his heart and head back in his control, Harry’s emerald eyes flicked to the bedroom door; it was dangling by one hinge and the wardrobe was split literally in half. He wondered how long, absently, that would take to fix of they would have to replace both now. ‘Downstairs.’ Snape pushed Harry, releasing his wrist.  
  
Harry stumbled a few steps forward, pausing on the landing right before he would have fallen down them, hand on the railing. ‘Now!’ He growled right behind him, into where his ear would have been had Harry still been entirely human and the large hand pushed again, well, tapped him rather into descending the stairs or fall down them.  
Harry stumbled down them, almost tripping a few times as his tails would themselves hazardously around his legs. Snape kept his hand in the middle of his back as his eyes began to water; they weren’t saddened tears they weren’t even really guilt-ridden tears. They were tears of hatred, of being betrayed, of having no choice, at any point, of not being able to control his own movements now, his own actions, his own life, of forcefully trying to calm himself from the abrupt fright of Snape’s hand.  
  
He knew the man had seen him flinch.  
  
He could still detect that Snape was angry and clearly angrier than everyone else, in fact, everyone though clearly angry at his behaviour seemed to be more disappointed than anything else. Was it that Snape seemed angrier, more menacing, more focused?  
  
Harry fell down the last step from a particularly forceful push between the shoulder blades, smacking his head against the banister as he tried to stop himself from smacking head first onto the hardwood floor. He groaned and grabbed for his head, standing slowly to his feet. He was only allowed the privilege for brief moment before he was being hauled by his arm again, the grip tighter as Harry dragged his feet, right into the sitting room and over to the wand-waving Madam Pomfrey.  
  
She was clearly healing herself. She was sat, looking decidedly hurt emotionally and obviously physically—Harry caught the glimpse of the immediate dark bruising that encircled six very long claw marks that slowly faded before swallowing and looking away. This was inevitably when Snape propelled him forward. The push was harsh this time, uncaring if Harry fell to his knees. He probably presumed Harry should be apologising like that. His lips growled, ‘Apologise.’  
  
‘I…I…’ Harry floundered as Pomfrey looked up at his stutter. He really was well and truly sorry now—they looked horrific like she’d been caught unawares by a wild animal. They almost looked laced with poison, but, she…had brought it on herself, right? Hadn’t she come at the insistence of Snape, at the mere mention of Harry’s name? hadn’t she immediately, without his consent gone to diagnose his injuries and then promptly ask him where his bedroom was so they could fix it? Hadn’t she tried to forcefully remove him from the chair? Wasn’t she just another of these people? Wouldn’t she, if she had been here earlier, not have helped them drug him so he could spill his secrets?  
  
The more he thought, the more he believed it.  
  
Wasn’t she just another one that despite obviously being a healer and having the right to know things like this for medical reasons, that just wanted to know everything about him? Harry started to shake his head, he hadn’t been sure after feeling immensely guilty, if he wanted to actually apologise to the Healer now, but now, he knew he didn’t. Not today. ‘Potter’ It was a growl, right behind him. He could feel the heat of the older man.  
  
Harry licked his lips and swallowed, feeling his body shiver but he stood firm. ‘I don’t need your help.’ He ignored the stares of outrage and astonishment this was replied with. Pomfrey blinked at him, putting her wand away, her arm now marred by no more than a few deep red lines. Harry jerked forward, eyes closing momentarily as he was pushed none to gently from behind again.  
  
Snape’s voice entered his twitching ears.  
  
He wanted to rub the thrumming spot but refrained as he kept his eyes on the Matron, answering Snape’s ‘I beg your pardon, boy?’  
  
‘I don’t need your help, Madam Pomfrey. I’m fine. I feel fine. betrayed, hurt, and I’ve sprouted two tails and some ears on the top of my head which you don’t appear to find all that strange considering you haven’t mentioned anything about it.’ He let that hang in the air a moment, her eyes blinking at him. ‘I’m angered and sad but I’m fine.’ He shrugged helpless, not really sure what to say to her other than that, especially when she merely stared back at him, just blinking. ‘There was no reason for you to come to Headquarters at the behest of Snape so early in the morning, you were probably asleep. I really am fine Madam. I don’t need you to heal me, or check me, or anything remotely like that because there’s nothing wrong with me.’ Not even my ass, since it doesn’t actually hurt, doesn’t even ache. He assumed that had been healed by the potion, to almost perfect.  
  
He had no idea really, what either of them were truly seeing but he was sure they were probably just over-reacting because they needed him for the long run. What he needed through was for Madam Pomfrey to go back to her job, back to her domain, so that she could over-see the children that were there, if there were any over the summer and go back to bed because she stay alert.  
  
‘I came at the request of Severus, Harry. I can’t simply leave. He spoke you need to be—’  
  
‘I heard every word he said, Poppy.’ He said, cutting her off. ‘I don’t.’  
  
‘Yes, Potter, you do. You have been beaten to within an inch of your life not even a week ago, I suppose, and not even a day ago the same thing happened. Granted, you healed yourself with a temporary potion fix; it did not heal you Potter. You were also fucked to within an inch of your life by two men, at the same time no less for Merlin knows why, one of them is a fucking adult, both of them a physically ginormous, Potter. To put it rather crudely. You are most decidedly not fine.’  
  
‘Physically ginormous, not exactly well-endowed…’ He mumbled, brushing his hair.  
  
Pomfrey’s eyes switched between them, wide as spooked owl, her mouth hanging open in shock as Harry flicked her eyes toward her, he frowned. He frowned further when she stuttered, ‘You…What?’ she stared at Harry.  
  
Harry spoke slowly, ‘…I was fucked by my Uncle and my Cousin, at the same time since everyone else here knows now anyway I did why you can’t. what exactly did you see Madam Pomfrey if you didn’t see that? They shoved their cocks inside my ass, repeatedly, for let’s say…two hours, this time, and then my cousin kicked me. You probably saw that with your spells huh? My ass however, is totally fine, since I’m used to it—we went over this.’ He aimed the last four words behind him at Snape. ‘I am fine. You may go back to Hogwarts now.’ It wasn’t harsh by any means but it damn well sounded rude coming out of his mouth; disinterested in her reaction which happened to be to rear back in disbelief and stare at Snape, peering into the side of his head as if he was digging for Harry’s soul and trying to find where it went too, then promptly trap it, cage it and lock it up so it didn’t escape again.  
  
Harry was determined to settle this once and for all as he turned from her to face the bastard teacher.’ I. am. Fine. I do not need, ANYONE, ANYONE to look at me, or my injuries because there are none, let alone do I want my fucking private areas stared at intensely. Understand, PROFESSOR?’ Snape’s obsidian eyes narrowed dangerous and he took a step forward, wand partially in hand, withdrawing from his black jacket.  
  
He advanced on Harry and Harry took an involuntary step backwards as the man’s voice, calm, stable and dangerous said once again, ‘I beg your pardon, Mister Potter?’  
‘I think you—you heard me.’ He could have hit himself for stuttering after standing up to the man in his anger. The man’s posture was screaming danger, with undertones of “I am trying to hold myself back for the sake of the wizarding world.”  
  
‘Mm, I am unsure I did as it happens. Please. Do repeat it.’ He smiled slightly, tilting his head only just an inch as he spoke. It made Harry gulp and realise, he may have just made a bigger more stupid mistake than before. He stepped hurriedly, falling on his trunk which had, apparently, decided to move again and into his way. He scrambled to right himself and stand on his feet on the other side as Snape advanced. He stepped skilfully over the drunk with his wand aimed at Harry’s heart.  
Okay, so this man could and quite possible in his angered state, no matter what Dumbledore thought of him afterwards, with his years of experience with Death Eater’s and their tortures, with this man had having a fucking temper a thousand miles long, if not longer, who had already thrown a jar at Harry’s head to shatter on the wall just missing it in his fifth year, had thrown curses at him easily, would hurt Harry.  
  
Harry’s eyes were wild.  
  
‘Severus calm down.’ Madam Pomfrey, oh thank GOD. Madam Pomfrey! Harry screamed internally, instantly forgetting that he wasn’t apologising her but grateful she was interceding. She was up and on Snape in seconds, her hand on his arm and trying to lower it to the ground, since, you know, it was in the air and aimed at Harry’s frantically beating heart; The wand was sparking. Curious that though they weren’t the only three in the room, no one else had clambered to help Harry except the person that Harry had physically clawed and pushed to the ground. You’d think they’d be trying their best to make up for what they’d done to him, to apologise somehow, but since they thought they were in the right…He supposed not, feeling guilty or not they still believed that what they did was right, even if it had been unorthodox and downright fucking intrusive.  
  
‘It is the last time, the last fucking time, you understand? The last time I put my neck out to do something caring for a Potter.’ He spat Harry’s last name like it was filth as Harry blinked up at the man’s words. Caring? He’d done it before…?  
  
‘Now, now Severus, don’t be hasty.’ His ebony locks shook as he tossed his head, making him seem more menacing and more deranged somehow, though he did allow his wand to be forcefully lowered. Harry’s ears were echoing with Remus, Pomfrey and Mrs Weasley’s voices trying to calm the Slytherin. He flicked his emerald eyes between the wand and the man’s reddened features. He didn’t recall seeing the wand being lowered, it had been aimed at his heart on a second ago, he was sure of it. He hadn’t looked away, he’d kept the wand in his sights like a good Outstanding DADA student. It made no sense and yet there was the evidence, now by Snape’s side.  
  
‘I’ve had enough. I am not doing this anymore.’ Not doing what anymore? Harry frowned even further at the odd words. ‘I honestly could care less if you went back to your relatives, or if the Dark Lord tried to take you again because you’re too stupid. Good luck.’ He sneered the words, spun around, brushing Poppy’s hand from his arm, threw some Floo Powder into the fire, glaring at the picture, then muttering low before muttering for his dungeons at Hogwarts, ‘I’m sorry Lily, he’s a brat’ the man was gone.  
Why would Snape be apologising to Harry’s Mother? Wait, caring…Did Snape care about him? He remembered that the man had been keeping alive since he’d entered Hogwarts but, caring? It wasn’t because he simply liked Harry’s new appendages? He was angry because he cared about Harry? What? And what did Harry’s mother have to do with anything? Harry swallowed thickly as he turned himself slightly, eyes locking with a recent picture he hadn’t been aware had been placed on the mantel. It was of his Mother beside a willow tree, she was smiling sadly out at him. He headed for the doorway in quick paces, eyes stinging.  
  
‘Wait!’  
  
He was halted as he got to the bottom stair. Remus was asking where he thought he was going. Harry ignored them, going straight up to his room. He felt strange, very depressed and…He didn’t know. He was confused now. He threw himself down the bed, again, ignoring the sharp shards of wood that lay beneath him on the covers, or that he couldn’t have privacy to wallow because now there was only a door hanging by its hinges. What did he care if he got small bits of splinters in his back or his backside? It wouldn’t hurt nearly as much as other things. Had Snape really meant what he’d said about not caring if Harry went back to the Dursley’s or if Voldemort came for him and tortured him, broke him? He sniffed and rubbed a hand across his eyes—he was crying? He partially sat up in shock and then fell back down with his hand before his eyes. Why was he crying? He didn’t…Snape’s words hadn’t hurt him that much, surely? He didn’t really understand them to begin with, why should they hurt him at all? He turned over, a hand coming up to make a makeshift pillow; he didn’t care what Snape said. Snape was an asshole, always would be…and…and an Ex Death Eater…and…and his Father’s enemy…Yeah, yeah, he could care less what Snape said or thought of him, or how much he didn’t care for him or how much…how much his hands had felt good on him…  
He slammed down a fist onto the actual pillow under his head and sniffed again, scrubbing fiercely beneath Snape’s glasses at his itching eyes. He knocked them off when he realised and flung them across the room in a fit of pique.  
  
‘Asshole’ he huffed, sniffing.  
  
//r//  
  
‘Damned stupid, idiotic, annoying, insolent, childish, irritating BRAT!’ Severus finally screamed as he fell through his fireplace and stormed through his living quarters in a huff, ransacking his liquor cabinet for once and pouring himself a decent sized brandy.  
  
He plonked himself down into his favourite armchair; the green almost black leather upholstered one. Threw his feet up onto his black oak coffee table, spelled his potions journal to him and began, in irritation, after spelling one of his spare pairs of glasses to him, cursing the brat for taking his nicest ones, to read. He was trying to calm himself enough not to scream and throw his own belongings in a show of childish anger that reminded him of Potter’s fifth year blow out in Dumbledore’s office. ‘Childish brat.’ He huffed as he flipped through the book. It was hard not to throw things for the next hour just to vent.  
  
He really dearly wished to have that childish tantrum, just so he could let it out here the privacy of his own quarters, to take it out on something because he couldn’t take it out on poor abused, feeling betrayed, insolent little bratty Potter.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry suddenly sat up as he came to a decision, having been staring into nothingness for the last few hours, undisturbed by everyone at Headquarters—who knew why—based on that day’s events and the ones that would undoubtedly follow…Harry flung himself over the edge of the mussed bed and headed first downstairs for his trunk once again, since it was still in the sitting room. This time when he arrived, the trunk was near another corner of the room; why was it that it appeared to be in a different spot every time Harry walked in here, did it grow legs and only move when no one was watching?  
  
He was, however, thankful that it was extremely late now and everyone had gone up to their bedrooms, or, apparently, into the kitchen to whisper under their breaths, having an early breakfast despite not having slept a wink. It was roughly 6 in the morning, the day after Harry had arrived at Headquarters. He stopped, trunk in hand and ears pricked up as he listen to the conversation—he wasn’t about to let them have their privacy, now was he?  
  
‘Honestly…I don’t know what’s wrong with Harry lately. I just don’t understand why he would keep this stuff from us? We’re his friends; Ron and I are his best friends.’ She seemed distressed, on the verge of tears.  
  
‘Maybe he doesn’t trust any of us?’ He was that was Ginny, mumbling into her hands.  
  
‘Even after all these years, we’ve been through hell with him, Gin, for the last five years, we’ve stuck by him, we’re loyal to him, if he asked us to jump off a bridge we’d probably do it. We’d do anything for Harry. Wouldn’t we?’  
  
Ron only hummed.  
  
‘Sure, we have fights and I feel really guilty about what we did…But…’ Harry heard her hiccup and shook himself, quickly tiptoeing toward the front door—he had been wanting to take a shower and change up there but he quickly changed his mind. It wasn’t like he had any personal effects up there anyways.  
  
‘Oh’ He whispered. He put down his trunk quietly by the door and raced back on nimble silent feet to grab the envelopes on the mantel and the two photo frames. He nicked a few books from his own library—which was weird and wrong to think about—and then raced back to his trunk. He shoved his feet into his trainers and then opening the door and turning once, he closed it with a thick click and walked to the park across the road…He supposed he could hail the knight bus like he had his third year, since he was underage and couldn’t apparate anywhere.  
  
He rummaged inside his trunk and withdrew a new, never worn and probably never really will be except for this express purpose, cap embroiled with a phoenix and shoved it on his head—hiding his ears. He then shoved his tails uncomfortably down his trousers, one down each leg. Hopefully it didn’t look too strange and then hailed it—the big purple bus. He wouldn’t come back here…They could keep it.  
  
He’d never liked anyway. Sirius had never liked it, he’d run away when he was sixteen. Harry hated it even more because Sirius was gone, so why wouldn’t he just let them have it? He didn’t want to be there.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the last 3 weeks, though naturally, not as himself. When he was on the knight bus, keeping head down low and his voice dropped a few octaves, he’d been scheming. He’d even schemed as he’d had a nap, being the last be dropped off because other customers had come before him and were before the Leaky. He’d changed his hair colour with a good branded muggle hair dye—he thought about going to get it at a Muggle Grocer but had changed his mind and had gone immediately to a Muggle Salon a few blocks away in the market square; the hairdresser, who had been quite handsome had smiled indulgently at his ears, saying they were cute and obviously thought they were some new fad among the teens---admittedly very good ones. His mess was now his Mother’s auburn. He’d also gotten it cut with a prayer that it wouldn’t immediately regrow later, but alas it had in fact grown, but it grew longer and now sat comfortably just above his shoulders and wasn’t as equally recognisable as his mess.  
  
He looked more like his mum this way he thought but this was probably not wise either, with Snape’s cryptic-ness. So he had rushed to acquire some prescription contact lenses that were a rare cerulean-violet and had deigned to get some prescription spectacles that were silver-rimmed that he shoved inside his trunk with Snape’s. He supposed he could possibly resemble what a child of that little girl’s might look like. Of course he kept his appendages well out of sight with various caps, hoodies and cloaks.  
  
He was on his way out now, room key turning in the lock, his hair tied in a loose pony-tailed bun under his grey hooded cloak, when he heard Tom the bartender ask him how he was this morning. He turned around slightly, turning the key in the rest of the way and swinging the keychain as he pocketed it. A polite smile was on his handsome young features that remained shrouded in shadow.  
  
He was a bit curious why Tom would be up on Harry’s floor this early in the morning and not downstairs in the bar “cleaning” some glasses with an old dish rag that Harry was sure wasn’t the least bit hygienic, but maybe someone was supposed to be checking out and hadn’t done so yet?  
  
‘I’m well thanks, Tom. I’m just off to do some shopping. It’s a lovely day after all, the sun’s shining, the birds are singing, the winds are pleasant.’ He laughed at Harry’s poetic words. Shopping was the one thing Harry was constantly doing since he’d come to stay at the Leaky. The most obvious spot where he would hide and the least likely place for them to check until someone was smart enough to realise he was probably hiding in plain sight. Naturally he was out shopping because, [a] He had absolutely zilch to do, he’d already read through the books he’d nicked from headquarters, five times, he’d already tried talking to the photos of his mother and his paternal side but they weren’t sentient enough so that didn’t go very far…[b] It gave him a distraction from his boredom and actually gave him a hunch to search the bookshops, even the ones down Knockturn alley about what he was…He hadn’t gotten many leads yet, if any and…[c] Harry liked shopping. Immensely as it turned out. It was bonus because he also needed to keep buying things to keep this little charade of his going indefinitely. He was grateful he’d still had quite a bit of money left over from the last time he’d gotten some cash out at the bank.   
  
He obviously couldn’t go there now.  
  
‘Well, you be careful today won’t you Mister Moon. There were some rumours circling around in Diagon and Knockturn about young men like yourself being grabbed off the street—bunch of crazies around these days.’ He shook his head and looked appalled and Harry nodded slowly sucking in his lip as he raised disbelieving eyebrows. There were indeed.  
  
‘Sure thing.’ He said, shoving his hands into his pockets. ‘If I don’t come back, you’ll be sure to contact my Mother, won’t you?’  
  
‘I don’t know your Mother.’ The bartender frowned.  
  
Harry laughed, shaking his head as he walked down the stairs, departing his words over his cloak. ‘It was joke Tom. A joke. I’ll be fine. See you later.’  
  
‘Alright, bad joke, but alright. See you later Mister Moon. I’ll have your usual down in the bar when you get back for lunch. Be careful!’ He started to shout as Harry turned toward the backdoor and started to turn the knob. Harry nodded his chestnut head distractedly at Tom’s words, his mind was on Tom’s words. Young men like himself, huh? He fingered his wand as he used his fingers to tap the bricks before him—he’d discovered in the last few weeks that with this new heritage, came not just more stealth and nimbleness but new power—he was more easily able to memorise things, though sometimes the words did blue and he started to feel like he was going to pass out, and he was more easily about to cast spells, in the last week and a half he’d discovered he was now able to perform a few wandless spells; they weren’t perfect but they worked, the only problem was that they didn’t work on his looks.  
  
//r//  
  
‘Honestly, of the all stupid…’ Severus plonked himself down in his usual kitchen chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on; of all the stupidest things for Potter to do now, this had to be one of the stupidest, one, of the stupidest.  
  
Why on earth would he run away?! AGAIN, AGAIN, surely Potter loved his friends no matter what they did, too much for him do something so reckless right after everything that happened last year at the Ministry, with that mangy mutt, with Dumbledore even…He could understand the need, he’d felt it but this was just moronic on the highest level for something Potter should attempt.  
  
You’d think he’d calm down and everything would be hunky dory.  
  
‘This is entirely your fault. I hope you realise Severus.’ He turned to the man who spoke, looking haggard and conveniently hiding behind an equally haggard newspaper so that he didn’t end up seeing Severus scowl or the twist of his lips—this certainly was not his fault, how dare the wolf?!  
  
‘No one person is at fault here, Remus. We need to work together to find Harry, again, before he gets hurt, unfortunately does anyone have any ideas where Harry might have run off too?’ Every eye turned to every individual that was called upon by these words by the old man at the end of the table—it was the third time the man had been there in the last three weeks; busy as he on his own “misadventures”.  
  
Potter’s friends looked like they hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in the last three weeks let alone the last three days, since they had gone up to check Potter late in the morning only to find him gone, his trunk gone from the sitting room with books missing, the envelopes taken and the frames vanished from the mantel. The Matriarch and Patriarch of the Weasley Clan and their children all looked sleep-deprived, the werewolf, everyone. He supposed maybe he might if he hadn’t glamoured himself that morning.  
  
‘We’ve repeatedly looked through Diagon, traversed down Knockturn to be sure the brat didn’t wander down there and was unsuspectedly pounced upon. We’ve checked all the free apartments and hotels close by, even the muggle ones. We’ve repeated scared untold numbers of teenaged men…I can’t think of anywhere besides we try the Leaky Cauldron again.’ Severus sighed as he rubbed his temples. They’d already tried there 20 times and still there was no sign of a runaway Potter.  
  
//r//  
  
Being overly cautious Harry quickly bought some touristy items—so he wouldn’t appear to belong to England, oh, yeah, did he forget to mention that titbit? He was “Romanian”. He hadn’t actually known he was good at faking accents until he tried in front of a mirror and one stuck, he supposed it was because he’d met Charlie Weasley and his Dragon Tamer’s that one time—second oldest Weasley son—it was apparently a quite beneficial several minutes of his life.  
  
He roamed the streets, cerulean-violet eyes searching for suspicious characters looking overly close at him as he walked innocently down the street, staring at things with bewildered curiosity—it was tedious but he had to admit he hadn’t seen half of the stuff that Diagon Alley had; he’d just gone and bought himself some weird arse trinket that was shaped like the full moon but had tendrils of wispy blue blown onto the revolving glass it hung from its golden chain; he wasn’t game enough to wear it, not until he got someone too look at it or he looked at himself after some research materials, so he’d pocketed it, wrapping it with a handkerchief to keep it safe.  
  
He slipped into Florean Fortescue’s Ice cream parlour, despite not getting free ice-cream in this disguise, he bought a large chocolate and raspberry, with chocolate coated chestnuts. He was reminiscing as he started his ice cream, sweltering under his cloak in the hot weather—it was a refreshing sweet. He wondered what would happen if someone were to approach him in this disguise, he was sure no one would recognise him, at least he hoped—he was sure he looked nothing like himself but he was starting to feel a bit antsy about looking like that girl in the photograph…or at least a descendant; maybe he should change his hair colour again? Get another haircut and hope it stuck this time?  
  
‘Hm’ he debated as he licked ice cream from his fingers, sitting down near the clear window, eyes scanning absently across the high street. He loved Fortescue’s ice cream, he’d never pass it up if he got the change, not even on England’s coldest days. He did miss the free ice creams though, he hadn’t really been back here since his third year for ice cream—he’d received the free-bee’s when he’d come here, having been staying at Leaky, to do his homework in piece—he’d received the ice creams every half hour. The man was a saint.  
  
Harry chuckled below his breath, his shoulders shaking as he spotted a small child across the road with a gigantic pouting mouth, tugging their parent’s further down the street—they looked exhausted, to the toy store. It was a sight that made his heart throb not necessary in a bad way.  
  
He exhaled, plopping another dollop of ice cream into tongue, perhaps he should re-organise his appearance, just a little bit. He blinked when several people suddenly appeared in the street, wands out, scrambling to catch the rob a young brown-haired teen---definitely should do that, Harry nodded sharply. Chestnut was too close.  
‘Fuck’ He swore quietly, hurrying to eat the rest of his ice cream. This was clearly what Tom had been going on about this morning. Why did they have to appear in Diagon for the first time, whilst he was there? He didn’t have any doubts, seeing the actions and the appearances, who these ‘crazies’ were. Slowly standing, popping the last of his cone into his mouth, wiping his lips and hands on a napkin and binning it, he casually strolled out of the parlour, hoping to blend in.  
  
His intense eyes, under his cowl, never once left the figures hastily making their way down each end of Diagon Alley’s high street. He slipped into a salon easily enough, giving the shocked person a little variation on the muggle stylists assumption. ‘Costuming accident’, it was heavily accented, which probably worked better and gave them a detailed description of what he wanted as they chuckled. He was happily bouncing out of the store with his hood back of his white hair and ears. Then he jumped, startled out of his wits when his path was hindered by him having walked straight into someone.  
  
‘Oh, my apologies sir.’ He bowed his head a second and went to walk away, around the man, never taking much notice of who the man was when the man’s hand flung out and grabbed him tightly by the arm—it was rather harsh, if Harry was honest and spun him back around to face him. Harry pivoted on his heel, his hand on the larger one. ‘Yes?’ His eyes, whence they lit upon the taller’s face immediately widened without permission. Fuck. He hastily tried to cover the lapse with shock that the man had so rudely grabbed him and hadn’t let go. ‘Do you mind unhanding me, sir?’  
  
The black eyes narrowed in suspicion and Harry tried, discreetly, to unclamp the man’s rather tight grip on his arm. It didn’t budge and Harry felt it beginning to bruise. The other hand, which he had assumed was in the man’s pocket or something appeared in from of his face and threw back his cowl. Harry blinked, not from the act but at the sunlight as it lashed out at his sensitive eyes. Well thank fuck for thinking ahead and buying a new hat that he’d placed on under his cloak when walking out of the salon.  
Someone was looking down on him, watching over him. Thank you. Harry mentally whispered upwards to the skies. ‘Can I help you?’ He asked aloud, laying on his Romanian accent thick as he spoke up.  
  
‘You are from Romania. You’re a bit far from home aren’t you…Here with your parents?’ He was clearly suspicious and his head moved around as if looking for them.  
Harry opened his mouth, closed it when nothing came out and thought quick. ‘It appears that way yes. No, I am afraid I have none but I have come to find a suitable school to finish my education, as my uncle is rather adamant I do so, elsewhere.’  
  
‘There are none in Romania?’  
  
‘Oh there are, but as he said elsewhere, and I heard there was an exceptional school here, I thought I would give it a shot.’ Snape’s eyes narrowed further and Harry hurried to spun a more complex story about being expelled from various schools for his behaviour, that his uncle wasn’t happy about this and he did it all with a wary and rather rushed but intact accent. To be far, if he were in any other school and he no Harry Potter, he was sure he would have been expelled, a thousand times over by now.  
  
It was definitely plausible.  
  
Snape nodded, see even Snape thought so.  
  
‘Very nice meeting you, sir, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a number of things I need to do today.’ He smiled politely and once more tried to unclasp the man’s hand. Finally, finally, the fingers loosened and allowed him to pry them off; with a nod, Harry was fixing his hat, pulling the cowl back over his head and walking on his way to the clothing shop. Well, one of them. He was feeling extremely relieved to say the least. He discreetly wiped his brow, pushed a hand to his beating heart and made a risk move in looking when he was about to enter the interior.  
  
Snape was still standing there, hand partially in the air, black eyes narrowed and looking directly at him; like he just knew.  
  
Harry swallowed and took the last step, exhaling heavily once the man was out of view.  
  
//r//  
  
He was grabbing lunch at one of the many café’s that lined the street, instead of going back to the Leaky when he got one hell of a surprise. Someone very familiar, very slim, very pale, very blonde sat right down at his table, a plate full of salad and chicken in his slender fingers. Harry blinked, his face clearly showed a look of confusion and shock.  
Draco Malfoy smiled and extended his hand. Harry’s cerulean-violet eyes flicked down to it, unsure if he really should accept it this time. The blonde waited, patiently.  
Licking his lips and deciding, hey what the heck? He wasn’t Harry Potter right now, enemy of Draco Malfoy, he was Ea Moon, Romanian tourist. Right? ‘Hello, why did you just sit down at my table?’ He smiled politely, taking the sting out of his words and replacing them with bemusement and interest, as he shook the blonde’s hand. It was smooth. Soft.  
  
‘You looked lonely and my friend said you looked cute enough, so I came over. I’m Draco Malfoy by the way. You are?’  
  
Cute enough? Malfoy was…Gay? Harry blinked.  
  
‘Ea Moon.’ He inclined, putting his knife down completely as he had with his fork. This could be interesting. He’d see where this went.  
  
‘Nice. Where are you from? I’m sure I’ve heard the accent before but I can’t place it.’  
  
Harry smiled at the way the blonde’s forehead creased. ‘Romania. My English is good?’  
  
‘Yes.’ He laughed. ‘Romania, that’s far…What are you here for?’  
  
‘School.’ He shrugged. They were one worded answers mostly but they seemed to be enough to satisfy Malfoy’s curiosity.  
  
The blonde nodded, ‘Any Particular one?’  
  
Since Harry was not a hundred percent on whether he was willing to keep this up for such a long period of time, as he wanted to check out his Vault’s without seeming suspicious, let alone have him tracked this way by the Order, he hesitated.  
  
‘Come on, I promise I won’t follow you.’ His grin spread as Harry’s eyebrows rose.  
  
Hey, why not? If he decided against it, Malfoy’d never see Moon again to be angry that he’d been lied too, or misdirected. ‘Hogwarts, I think, may be. I hear it is good.’  
  
‘Well it certainly is, minus a few flaws. I do have to take it back though.’  
  
‘Pardon?’ Harry played along.  
  
‘I attend Hogwarts you see, since I was eleven.’ He dropped his hand over the side of the table and showed a height percentage. ‘How old are you anyway. Normally, I’d ask that with your name.’ He shook his head, as if scolding himself and whacked the side of it with a knuckle a few times.  
  
This definitely was interesting.  
  
‘Ah, I see. I am 16. Is that your age as well, may be?’ Harry knew of course, since Malfoy’s birthday was a month before his; but Malfoy nodded, running his own fork through his cooling chicken salad—though maybe it had been cold before? Harry tracked it with his eyes. ‘Do you normally approach strangers like this, or was it just because your told you too?’ He was curious.  
  
The blonde looked up once again, his grey eyes swirling with many, many unanswered and very interesting questions—to him. ‘Normally? No, I don’t. I don’t think much of strangers actually…However, it wasn’t because of my friend, frankly he only told me that you looked rather cute so I came over myself to have a peek. Is that strange? Should I leave?’ He looked insecure, which was a new look for Harry, as he questioned.  
  
Harry took pity on him. ‘Don’t leave, it’s nice.’ He wasn’t even lying.  
  
Malfoy’s face split into another grin as he lifted the fork, stabbed with chicken and lettuce to his mouth. He chewed for a moment, ever polite and then spoke. ‘I expect it’s hard to come all the way to a new country to find school, and mid-schooling too. Have you done it before?’  
  
Normally Harry would have to say no, he hadn’t but since…you know. ‘Unfortunately I have changed schools mid-schooling before, though I have never travelled to another country to do so. I have not been very endearing to my Headmaster’s and Headmistresses…My Uncle has refused me back home and has sent me away for school.’ He put on a face.  
  
‘Oh. You’ve had many schools then?’  
  
Harry nodded, his eyes downcast to play it well. This was fun. It was actually fun talking to Malfoy—who knew? Blonde wasn’t so bad.  
  
‘Oh, well, Dumbledore, that’s our Headmaster, he’s a little…’ He seemed to flounder for the right word. ‘Quirky, eccentric I guess? To put bluntly, I’m sure you’d be fine here. There is this trio that gets into all sorts of misadventures but they never get expelled for it, in fact I don’t think they receive punishments have the time when they should and I swear our first year, he let them win the House Cup just because they’d done something for the school…’ He shook his head and then smiled. ‘You’ll be fine.’  
  
Harry almost chuckled at Malfoy’s less harsh words for Dumbledore. Harry probably would have just flat out said that old man was crazy but whatever floated Malfoy’s boat. And of that about probably never being expelled, that had all been about Harry and his friends. He very nearly snorted, because he was sure Malfoy was right about the House Cup their first year as they had technically stolen it from the Slytherin’s—who’d already been awarded the cup at dinner and though they did get punished for some things, when it came to the bigger picture in their misadventures, their misdeeds and breaking of rules usually were swayed in their favour---sometimes, as had happened in second year, they had been awarded special awards in the Trophy room for services to the school.  
  
‘You’d best hurry though if you want to be admitted this year, we start the new year on September first. That isn’t very long and most students have already gotten their book lists. I mean, I’m here to collect mine today.’ He let his shoulder lift and drop.  
  
Harry’s features turned to surprise and a bit flustered at the news as he took a bite of his own lunch during Malfoy talking. He’d only just remembered that it sat there, getting cold.  
  
//r//  
  
It had been a few hours since.  
  
‘…Can’t believe…’ Harry whispered, eyes wide, tails swishing, ears flattened as he stared straight at the sleeping angelic face of a completely buck-naked Draco Malfoy. ‘What was I thinking? Was I even thinking?’ He continued. What had honestly possessed him to bring Malfoy back to his room at the Leaky, sneak a bottle of wine from behind Tom’s back, and then…  
  
This, they had done this…  
  
He did a circuit of his dry lips, chewed them for a good two minutes then slowly pushed himself off the edge of the mattress, as not to wake the blonde. He couldn’t believe, he just couldn’t, he’d actually…They’d actually…He’d, with Malfoy…Malfoy with him…He paced back and forth on the tiles of the inbuilt bathroom he’d ask for, hands in his hair almost ripping strands out in frustration and complete bewilderment.  
  
His head was beginning to throb too.  
  
Knock.  
  
Knock.  
  
‘Ea, you alright in there? Can I use the bathroom?’ It sounded a bit desperate. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself to once more face Malfoy after what they had just done, several times over if he remembered correctly through the ache in his brain…He finally opened the door and nodded, ears twitching effortlessly and his tails, his traitorous tails flicking across Malfoy’s bare flat, toned abs and swishing in a caress.  
  
He batted it lightly away with a smile, ‘I have to say, I was shocked when your hat first fel off. I’ve never seen a wizard with cat ears before, let alone those tails of yours.’ He walked past, placing a hand on Harry’s bare chest over his rapidly beating heart, kissing the edge of his mouth and closed the bathroom door.  
  
A soft satisfied sound echoed out. Harry took a breath he’d been unaware he’d been holding onto and took a large gulp of air as he sat heavily back on the bed. He smacked his head back against the peeling plaster of the bedroom wall for good measure.  
  
What on earth was he thinking?  
  
//r//  
  
‘Anyone found him yet?’  
  
There was a chorus of No’s.  
  
‘Well, to the Leaky, again, I suppose.’ Severus sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples, feeling yet another headache coming on, he was getting these constantly now for the last three weeks and had come to carrying around Headache Relievers in his pockets. Why was there always stress involved when Potter was involved? This was all Potter’s fault for running away and Granger’s fault for screaming into his Fireplace that he was gone. He was still curious how the teenager had fire-called his private chambers, since no one in the Order was privy to his Floo password, or that he was in fact connected to it directly. He shook his ebony head of it as they walked into the dingy little pub and hotel; it was meaningless to think about it now.  
  
‘I don’t expect Potter would use his real name, that’d be too obvious and though I’ve said it before…We’ll try some new names. Something that isn’t too obvious but isn’t wildly out of Potter’s brain capacity to think up either.’  
  
‘So, not Harry Evans?’  
  
Severus shook his head at the ginger-haired male. ‘Of course not and no variations on his given name either—it’s too obvious.’ Of course, as Potter didn’t seem to share all that much about plans and secrets and such, this might all be pointless coming from the teens friends. Unless he had told them that happened to like a particular name sometime during their little hangout sessions.  
  
‘What can I do for you?’  
  
‘Hi Tom. We’re looking for someone, they came in here probably about three weeks? They might have seemed a bit…Different.’ Severus scowled at the know-it-all when she walked right up to the counter; as if the owner and bartender would just give out the names of his guests, even if she asked nicely.  
  
‘Hmm, different you say? In what way?’  
  
‘Well, they might have had a name that seemed a bit out of place or they were from a different country, maybe had a slight accent or something?’ Severus blinked at her words. That was half of the guests that came to stay at the Leak Cauldron, it was a good hideout when you wanted hideout in plain sight, as long as you were halfway smart.  
  
‘He was probably wearing a hood of some sort, maybe a hat? He’s young.’ Severus said.  
  
The old bartender nodded slowly, a dirty rag stuck inside a, what Severus believed, to be another already clean glass. ‘I do have someone similar to that as it happens. He did happen to arrive around three weeks on the dot. From Romania he is, good in English but sometimes a bit thick and hard to understand. He’s a bit busy at the moment though, bought himself back a pretty blonde from Diagon Alley. Didn’t think he meant he was out shopping for men today—usually does some shopping, think the lad’s partial to it.’ He chuckled and put the glass down heavily. It clinked on the counter. ‘Why you looking for him anyway?’ He narrowed his eyes, turning partially to pick up and skim through the tattered old log book of the house guests. It would be appearances sake only as he was the bartender knew everyone that stayed in his establishment.  
  
‘It may be important, or he might not be the one we’re looking for. If we could check, that’d be appreciated, we won’t take much of either of your time.’ Severus eyes narrowed as he caught onto something. ‘Romania?’  
  
‘Ay’ He skimmed again and then pointed, jabbing a name before slamming the book shut and turning his eyes back up to the group. ‘Ea Moon, his name is, he’s a nice chap. Room 235’  
  
‘Thank you.’ Severus was up on the landing, his feet almost stomping on the old floorboards before everyone else. He was going to settle this now, once and for all, he was sure this was Potter. Enough was enough. He wrapped his knuckles against the chipped wood of the door, beneath the peeling number plaque and waited patiently for a response.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry frowned, pulling his mouth away from the other teen; he wasn’t even sure how they had ended up kissing let alone when either of their hands had wondered to the unclothed cocks.  
  
Was that the door? Why was someone at his door, he knew he’d told Tom he didn’t want any housekeeping unless he asked for it personally and it surely couldn’t be dinner down in the pub so why?  
  
‘Who’s that?’  
  
Harry shrugged at the mumble by his neck, shivering as it was licked. ‘I’ve no idea but put some clothes on.’ The teen did as bid and Harry did the same before slowly walking to the door. He wished it had a peep hole or that he could produce one easily with wandless magic but as it was he had to open the door to see who was on the other side being a disturbance. ‘Done?’ He asked. Draco nodded, buttoning the last button on his white silken shirt; Harry adored that shirt! It was so soft and silky. He loved rubbing it between his fingers and face—he remembered doing it when they’d gotten back to the pub.  
  
He was sure Draco had likened his actions to that of a kitten and Harry had inclined his head in acceptance of the fact.  
  
‘Who is it?’ He asked, accent thickening.  
  
There was no answer but he could hear the heavy breathing, which was disturbing, from the other side of the wood. ‘Throw me my hat, would you?’ He whispered back. The blonde did so and Harry quickly shoved it atop his head, and his tails inside his trousers. He opened the door then, cautious of the creepy stranger. His hand tightened as he involuntarily gasped, going to close to the door. Snape’s hand was around his neck in seconds, pushing him into the room, and the door back against the wall. Several people entered after him, closing it behind them for some privacy. Snape’s other hand came up and roughly pulled the hat from Harry’s whitened head. Harry wasn’t paying much attention to it or anything besides the tight hand that was steadily cutting off his air supply; he gasped for breath.  
  
He was sure he heard Malfoy yell something in the distance.  
  
‘Hah…’ He tried to swallowed. The sound travelled clear in the silent room. He coughed harshly when the hand prevented him from sucking in oxygen let alone truly coughing. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the air to breathe. His blue-violet eyes were beginning to sting with unshed tears, blurring the picture of the angry man before him and the silent ones behind the dark figure. His hands scrambled across Snape’s.  
  
‘I. am. Not. The least bit amused at any of this, Potter.’  
  
Harry cringed at the words, eyes falling closed as he heard the outraged gasp. He let his own agonised one out as he felt the subsequent impact of a fist to his side—he cried, his mouth hanging open and spit dribbling down his lip. He couldn’t breathe! He scrambled further to relieve the pressure on his throat.  
‘Malfoy?!’ He cringed again, eyes still closed as he heard both his friends screech.  
  
‘Pretty blondes indeed, Potter. Bedding school rivals now, are we?’ Snape’s voice lowered and Harry purred though he was unsure why he would suddenly bust that out. He was unable to breath, he should be whimpering or trying to hiss his outrage. His strength was leaving him though and he sagged a little under the hand around his throat, pressing into his windpipe, seemingly uncaring about cutting off his student’s air supply. Snape withdrew Harry’s tails from his pants then, and he wasn’t sure why his purring would intensify at this.  
  
This was ridiculous.  
  
‘The fuck, Potter?!’  
  
Harry heard the stamp of the foot. Harry opened his eyes slowly, keeping his hands on Snape’s, his nails had scratched across the smooth skin—there were lines of red, small pearls of blood appearing. ‘I…I…’ He choked, was choking. Snape only let up briefly as he pushed them further into the room, until Harry’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell backwards. ‘I…’ He coughed again, his own hand coming up to cover the bruised flesh as Snape’s hand released on his descend. ‘I’m…sorry…’  
  
‘You’re sorry?! Why the fuck would you do this?’ He spread his hands around and Harry stared at the flailing blurred image of the blonde as his eyes watered. ‘Revenge?’  
  
Harry shook his head, rubbing at his bruised throat. ‘…You’re…You’re the one that should…be getting revenge…right? I don’t even know…how we ended up in…bed together…I wasn’t trying to…deceive you and I wasn’t…entirely lying to you…at the café… the chat…it was nice… really…and I do…go to Hogwarts…So, I’m sorry… It wasn’t…. intentional…at all…I was hiding…from them…’ He pointed as he swallowed painfully, a tear slipping down his cheek to drop onto his knee.  
  
‘Hiding, why?’ His voice came out frowning and extremely confused by this but his grey eyes remained narrowed as he stood by the door, ready to leave at a drop of the hat…so to speak. He wasn’t happy that he’d just had sex with his nemesis.  
  
‘It’s…you don’t need to…concern yourself…I was just...I would like…for us to be…friend’s… I really would…uh…truce? I’m really…sorry for…well…’ He looked around the room and avoided the grey orbs.  
  
Draco’s voice when he spoke again was curious. ‘Have you ever had alcohol before?’  
  
‘A bit…yes…’ Harry nodded, confused.  
  
‘You know cats can’t drink alcohol, right? Like dogs can’t eat chocolate. I mean, not that dogs would be able to drink alcohol either, but it’s poisonous, you know?’ ‘Well, there might be something like cat wine, I think it’s made out of catnip but I’m not sure. I don’t own a cat.’  
  
Harry growled, then stopped as it was painful. ‘I am not…a cat…’  
  
‘Well, no, not exactly, but you look at lot like one, if you know, they were part human.’ He shrugged, his lips quirking. ‘You have the traits, ears, tail, tongue, claws, teeth. You have the behavioural ones too. You purr, you hiss and you mewl like a cat and you seem to love to curl yourself up under warm covers, or against a warm body, you even love shoving your face against my shirt because it’s so soft.’ Harry flushed at all this. ‘I’m sure you were drunk, I mean, I wasn’t…I voluntarily slept with you. It was good, by the way.’ He flushed himself and Harry went redder. ‘I can admit that, even after finding out I slept with Harry Potter. I’m not happy about being deceived like that, by any means Potter but I won’t take it back, not that I could and I’ll think about it, the friendship thing, I’m assuming you don’t want this little…’ he waved his hand in the air. ‘appearance of yours to get out so, I can give you a truce and I won’t tell anyone. Just…’ He looked toward everyone and warily stared at his furious Head of House. ‘Stop pretending to be someone you’re not, even if you do have a seriously good Romanian accent. Go home and come back to school as Harry Potter, annoying prat.’ Harry rubbed at his neck and nodded slowly, eyes suddenly elsewhere.  
  
‘…And Professor, serious? Really scary.’ Draco brought his head down in sharp nod, grabbed his cloak from the back of a chair, ‘I’ll be seeing you at school then, hopefully the Professor doesn’t kill you first…I don’t know what you did, exactly but I don’t envy you. Good luck, Potter’ and then was out the door. It echoed as it banged behind him.

‘Sir?’ Harry said warily.  
  
No response.  
  
‘Professor?’ He swallowed.  
  
No response. But the wand aimed in his direction and he flinched back, eyes wide, wondering why his friends and his ‘Family’ were just standing there as if they weren’t concerned for Harry at all. A moment later a wave of intense magic was thrust at him. It engulfed him but it went harmlessly over him. He blinked, shivering.  
  
‘Now you no longer look ridiculous. Remove those contacts, I’m not going to do that by magic that would be dangerous. You’re already blind enough as it is.’ Harry blinked, um, okay? He licked his lips, stood cautiously and briskly walked to the bathroom where he did just that. He came back out with his now usual emerald diamond eyes and his raven-black, chocolate and chestnut hair. ‘Sit back on the bed.’  
  
Harry immediately plonked himself silently back on the bed.  
  
‘Do you understand what you did?’  
  
Harry nodded silently.  
  
‘Have we not, repeatedly, gone over that these people are concerned about you? That they worry about you? Why on earth, when it has been expressly said it is dangerous for you to be outside the wards of Grimmauld Place when you are not at Privet Drive, would you think about running away?’  
  
Harry didn’t really have a polite or acceptable answer to this so he remained silent and just sat, staring up at Snape, swallowing painfully, grimacing, and blinked.  
  
Snape’s hand rubbed across his face with a heavy sigh. He looked tired. Maybe he hadn’t slept very much? He turned his eyes to everyone else, maybe none of them had slept? They all looked extremely sleep deprived. ‘You, are, increasingly, testing my patience.’  
  
Silence.  
  
‘Do you understand why I did what I did when you opened that door?’ He pointed behind himself, surprisingly directedly at the old door. Harry nodded, sure, he got it. The man was pissed, when men were angry at him, they tended to hurt him.  
  
‘Do you know why they did and are not doing anything?’ He shifted his point.  
  
Harry nodded, a bit hesitant but he could take a wild guess.  
  
‘I am constantly in pain from headaches because of you. I have taken to carrying around headache relievers and pain relievers. Do you know that?’  
  
Harry shrugged a little daringly, how could he know that?  
  
‘I am close, this close.’ He held his thumb and forefinger basically touching. ‘To throttling you good and hard, Potter.’  
  
Harry swallowed, hands clenching in his lap.  
  
‘Whether you are sixteen or not, will not even remotely deter me from putting you over my knee like some spoiled rotten little brat, like someone should have done years ago.’ Harry blinked, eyes widening involuntarily, his tails spasmed around him and his ears flicked aggressively. The man wanted to…spank him? Didn’t Snape usually have worse punishments lined up for disobedient and arrogant students, or brats, as the case may or may not be. ‘You aware of that?’ he asked, hissing.  
  
Um, no? Harry didn’t know that. How would he know that? What?  
  
‘Wait outside.’  
  
What?  
  
Harry watched as Harry’s “Family” slowly did as asked, or ordered, it had sounded more like an order and went out the door, closing it soundly behind them. Snape hadn’t imperious’d them, right? Had they simply stopped caring? Had they given up on him? He flinched at the bang the door echoed this time, he shuddered and closed his eyes as Snape advanced, his face within inches that Harry could feel his breath in hot waves.  
  
Oddly minty and caramel-like.  
  
‘This is the part where you get the punishment you deserve.’ Harry swallowed thickly. He was genuinely afraid, but was Snape really going to spank him or was that what he wanted the people outside to think he was doing to their “chosen one”? Was he going to use his cruelly learnt Death Eater tricks on him instead? Harry swallowed again in pain. His throat was so painful, he was sure it undoubtedly bruised to the point of being black already—unless Snape’s earlier spell had fixed this little loss of control as he’d stripped Harry of his fake appearance? The older man grabbed him about the wrists, pulling him to his feet, both wrists caught between one hand and pivoted on his heel, knocking his own knees against the mattress. He pulled Harry down with him and Harry jerked as he fell clean on top of his teacher, perfectly aligned, he could feel everything as his face leaned on the man’s chest. He hoped the long hard thing inside the Professor’s clothes was his wand and not his cock.  
  
Maybe…  
  
He may have just slept with Malfoy, true, but it had been proven that he’d been drunk and though he remembered bits and pieces he had still been drunk…  
  
He was sure he’d probably been the one to do Malfoy too…  
  
He was spun abruptly as Snape sat back up, knees pressed back into the end of the bed and feet firmly planted on the floor. Harry now faced the bathroom, his body now lying sideways across the Professor’s lap. So, the man really was going to spank him.  
  
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that…  
  
What if he suddenly grabbed Harry’s tails? The man couldn’t resist them.  
  
What if he started moaning? And what when they both started moaning? Then what? Would he accidently sleep with his Professor as well, even though he wasn’t sure about having anyone’s cock up his arse, he didn’t like his relatives molesting him but he wasn’t willing—he was…He wasn’t sure if he’d like anyone else there. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the sudden image that sprang up of them. This was not the time to get an erection because he’d thought stupidly and the image hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought it might be. He was, after all, laying across Snape’s lap and he would be able to feel Harry as easily as Harry would be able…to…feel…him?!  
  
His mind screeched to a halt as his entire body jerked upright. What?!  
  
‘Sit still.’ His body was pushed back down roughly by a hand in the middle of his back. One of his tail sat between his legs, wrapped around them, the other was flicking through Snape’s arms and across his chest. He could feel the soft material of Snape’s shirt as it did, oh my god, what was he doing? What was his tail trying to accomplish?!  
  
Damn. Damn, Damn, Damn!  
  
Damn!  
  
He fiddled with the sheet beneath his fingers as it was then decided his pants needed to be removed, all of them, for this punishment to be as real and painful as possible, as startling on him as it should be. The clothes were evanesco’d. He gasped at the sudden coolness then gasped louder as he heard Snape’s low groan at Harry’s tail being brushed lightly as it caressed passed the man’s body.  
  
Traitorous appendage. Harry scowled momentarily.  
  
Snape was obviously groaning of his fingers over Harry’s tail. He was obviously getting turned on, though it was hard to believe, because underneath Harry it was suddenly a little less comfortable near his pelvis. I wonder if it would be so hard for Snape to be attracted to me? He’s done his best to care for me, probably under some promise may be, with me Mother’s spirit—he’d gone back over his album and stare at that photo of his Mother by the willow tree. Everyone once and a while a handsome boy would appear and he knew it wasn’t his Father, then it would vanish. He’d cared, though despite this.  
  
He cared enough to be angry.  
  
Did he want Snape to be attracted to him, did he really want that? He nibbled at his lip as he clutched and unclutched the bedsheet. Snape was freely stroking Harry’s tail now, completely, his entire hand had encircled Harry’s appendage, like it would a velvety hard shaft, if Snape was into that. Snape’s cock certainly seemed to like playing with Harry’s soft tail, since it kept growing beneath him and nudging into his hip—his own grew against Snape’s leg and his other tail sat up into the air, dancing like a snake being charmed.  
  
He did. His eyes widened. They both moaned.  
  
‘Mister Potter’ It was a groan though it was a growl at the same time which turned out to be pretty sexy in the man’s velvety voice. Harry was relieved the man was no longer angry but the anger had been replaced by arousal…Was this good when the man wanted to punish him with spanking?  
  
They both might just like that…  
  
‘Ye...Yes?’ He cringed as he heard his voice, so small and stuttering. He shifted unconsciously and listened to the small sound from the man above him.  
‘Am I to believe, that this…’ He pushed his leg up a bit. ‘Is your—  
  
He coughed.  
  
Harshly and on purpose, though it was extremely painful.  
  
‘Are you alright?’ Oh thank god. He visibly let himself relax into the bed, or the part of him that was on it anyway and brushed his forehead against the bed in a “yes”. It seemed so surreal but he knew it was real. He knew Snape was still angry, under the arousal, there was no way he wouldn’t be but then he was relieved that Snape had enough care to let some that shift in his obsession with Harry’s tails. Perhaps the man hadn’t thought this through very well, there was now twice as much to arouse the man about Harry, in softness. Maybe Snape wasn’t going to spank Harry at all, the man probably hadn’t even noticed he was the one had gotten hard first?  
  
They both moaned as Harry shifted again.  
  
He wanted to know Snape’s true reasons for moaning when it came to Harry.  
  
Tails, ears, or Harry?  
  
So, he wouldn’t mind if he “accidently” slept with his Potions Master after all. He knew where his own arousal lay.  
  
//r//  
  
‘Oh!’ ‘Ah!’ ‘Ah!’ ‘Ah fuck!’  
  
‘Hush!’  
  
‘Ah!’ ‘Ah’ ‘Ah’ ‘Nn’ Harry’s face was pressed into the rumpled bedspread, a large hand was pressed into his shoulder blades to keep him there, a heated body was hovering above and behind him and he was sure he was being ripped apart.  
  
They were never, never this big, then again, he was exceptionally tight and his clenching wasn’t helping—according to the man behind him.  
  
//r//  
  
Harry was breathing heavily through his nose, his hair was plastered to his forehead, his tails were covering his privates and stared unblinkingly up at his pacing teacher. There had been a few knocks and bangs on the door but the door had been quickly locked, silenced and barricaded during illicit activities. Now the man was pacing back and forwards across the room with his clothes immaculate once more, his nails in his mouth and his wand under his arm in agitation.  
  
Harry didn’t know what to do.  
  
He screeched as the wand came up and flung at him. Immediately his hands were around his neck and his eyes were wide as he stared, just barely seeing Snape as he turned and faced his handiwork. ‘I’ve spent weeks trying to think of a way this wouldn’t get out to the public.’ Harry’s hands travelled all the way around his neck and back to the starting point a ways beneath his chin. He stared down, blinked, did a double-take and then screamed. He frantically pressed his hands around him to his tailbone where they should be sprouted from but they weren’t there. He took his hands up to his head but his ears weren’t there either. He started to hyperventilate and it was only when the older man kneeled on the bed and lifted his chin for the emerald to stare at him aghast, that he explained.  
  
‘What?’ Harry mumbled.  
  
‘As long as you wear that collar, which I’m sure will pop up all sorts of questions of its own that you’ll have to explain—it’s the only form it would take, you will appear as you did before your sixteenth birthday. You will of course still have the sensitive tongue, the good hearing and the agility but you will appear human.’  
  
‘And…if I take it off?’ His fingers twitched.  
  
‘Your appearance shall return but you won’t.’  
  
‘And why not?’ Harry glared.  
  
‘Because you can’t.’  
  
‘And why is that?’ Harry hissed, fingers up and travelling around the collar again in a search for some sort of latch or buckle; there was none. ‘How do you open this?’  
  
‘You don’t.’ Snape smirked. He leaned forward and pressed his hand to Harry’s crotch. Harry whimpered and mewled without conscious thought. ‘I do but I won’t.’ Harry whimpered again as the man moved away and returned his clothes to him. ‘Get dressed, they’re all anxiously waiting outside. You are not saying anything of…this…’ He waved around with hands and eyes. ‘Is that understood?’  
  
‘Of course.’ Harry grumbled, pushing himself into his trousers—luckily these didn’t have a hole in the back like the other ones, as he’d been shoving his tails down his trousers. He kept bringing his hands up to the intricate collar around his neck. ‘Could you…take it off…if I came to you?’ He whispered, moving around toward the bathroom.  
  
‘Beg your pardon?’  
  
He stepped into the room and stared at his reflection. The bruising had gone, though what little remained was covered by the inch wide black leather band. He blinked. ‘If I came to you in your quarters, say, every couple of nights under some pretence…or…after curfew stealthily, would you remove it whilst I was there?’ He didn’t move his eyes from the mirror, his fingers running across the pretty emerald jewels imbedded into the collar in different shapes and sizes.  
  
‘I shall think about it.’  
  
Harry’s lips twitched.  
  
‘Can you take me to Gringotts?’  
  
‘For what?’ He asked, leaning in the doorframe.  
  
‘A look in my Vaults?’ He ventured.  
  
Snape glowered.  
  
‘Please?’ He fluttered his eyelashes a little, staring with barely seeing emerald irises.  
  
He sighed. ‘We may come back tomorrow. Today, we go back to Grimmauld Place. I may have been thinking about that for weeks.’ He pointed to the leather. ‘But if I can improve it beyond what it is, it may not be visible to the public. I am still unsure why it refuses to be anything but a collar—it was leather to begin with, but I was heading more toward some sort of bracelet or braided necklace…’ He rubbed the side of his head. ‘No matter. Pack your things and put your glasses on.’ He tossed them.  
  
The man’s face was surprised when Harry caught them deftly and pushed them to his nose. He couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Still see shapes.’  
  
‘So you do.’ He shook himself. ‘Pack your things.’  
  
Harry nodded, ‘Yes sir…’ When the man turned away, he rubbed at his bottom. He had received that spanking for a few moments, it had been harsh and it had left his bottom bright red and hard to sit on without groaning in pain but he had to say his insides hurt a little more than his butt. The man wasn’t small, in any, ANY sense of the word.  
  
//r//  
  
‘What happened in there?’  
  
‘I punished him Wolf.’  
  
‘It was an awfully long punishment.’  
  
‘Was it?’  
  
‘Yes.’ The wolf growled.  
  
Harry walked out with his head lowered, hands firmly in his pockets. His trunk had been shrunk and was now in Snape’s coat pocket, along with Harry’s wand. He’d said he’d be taking it, as a further punishment.  
  
‘Where are your ears and tails, Harry?’  
  
Harry looked up briefly at Hermione, eyes dark green.  
  
‘That issue has been resolved for the start of School. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time here in this dingy pub, let’s head back to that dingy Headquarters.’


End file.
